


Roads Diverged

by AndromedaPrime



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Fluff, M/M, Mech Preg, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:43:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 79,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6158533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaPrime/pseuds/AndromedaPrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ultra Magnus discovers he's carrying the Decepticon leader's sparkling in the middle of a tentative ceasefire. Megazarak's sudden silence doesn't help matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Court-Martial

**Author's Note:**

> The title refers to the fact that this is yet another AU offshoot of my TF Animated AU (comprising of the fics _Choice_ and _The Secrets We Carry_ ) where Megatron and Ultra Magnus are Optimus's creators. 
> 
> In this AU, it is instead Megazarak that sired Optimus on Ultra Magnus. For those that might be unaware, Megazarak was the original founder and leader of the Decepticons before Megatron in TF Animated.

The stars shone exceptionally brightly, though quick glance upwards of a casual viewer wouldn’t have registered the increase in luminosity. To him, someone that took comfort in looking at the night sky, it was an easy thing to take notice of.

Magnus sat on his berth and stared out of the window of his quarters, trying to draw constellations in the night sky. He could see the ones that were always in the star-gazing datapads given out for hobbyists. Hunters, turbofoxes, a transformation cog. But there were the stray ones that belonged to no set constellations. He liked to try and make new images from their points of light.

He thought of the nights he’d spent in a small shuttle, looking out the window and watching the stars twinkle. He thought of the frame pressed against his back, taking his servo into his and lipplates brushing over the back of it while telling him that the beauty of the stars was  _ almost _ comparable to his.

He thought of how he would laugh and tell the other mech to save the dramatics and the fanciful prose. He was in no need of flattering.

Now, Magnus would give anything to hear that voice in his audio receptor again.

He lifted a digit and placed it on the windowpane. Seven stars that didn’t belong to a constellation, that perfectly formed the Magnus Hammer. That one was probably his favorite of his made-up images.

Megazarak would tell him to wait a few million stellar-cycles, and that the nebulas nearby would produce stars that would form a rough image of his entire frame holding the Hammer.

The door to his quarters opened, and a pair of guards grabbed him by his arms.

Normally he would have ordered them out and told them that they would be charged for a misdemeanor of rough-handling the Magnus of Cybertron. The cuff that slapped over his left wrist, binding him to one of the guards, reminded him that his powers had been stripped.

All he had left so far was his title.

The next solar cycle, he likely wouldn’t even have that.

.-.-.

Four sets of optics stared at him as he was pushed through the entrance.

Normally in a trial by court-martial, he would have been the one seated at the highest level, looking upon everyone. In this instance, he was the one under trial, trying to stand tall against everyone’s downward glances.

There were five podiums. The highest belonged to him. And he suddenly became painfully aware of how high the seats were located in the room.

Here he was. It was time to face the mess he had created.

One of the guards that had escorted him into the Council Chambers removed the stasis cuffs which bound his left servo to her. Both guards then retreated into the shadows, ready to be called upon.

The bot seated on the second-highest podium stood to their full height and cleared their vocalizer.

“Ultra Magnus, Supreme Commander of the Autobots and all Cybertron,” Alpha Trion’s voice boomed from his level, “you stand in front of us, accused on the charges of treason against the Autobots. These charges include, but are not limited to, espionage, risking the security of Cybertron, and fraternizing with the enemy.”

“Before we begin,” the second most-senior High Councilor, Highbrow, looked at the gathered bots a moment before looking back at the elected Magnus, “do you swear to tell the truth, and only the truth, in this court of law under penalty of perjury?”

“I swear it.” His voice echoed in the chambers.

“So noted,” Perceptor said in his monotone voice. “To begin: what was the nature of your relationship with one Megazarak, known to the common population as the leader of the Decepticons?”

Where was he to begin? It had been quite a number of stellar cycles since they had first begun contact. Magnus set his lipplates in a straight line and pulled himself to his full height. “Megazarak contacted me seven stellar cycles ago after my first battle as Magnus. He addressed the need to end the war soon, for the sake of his Decepticons. I agreed, for I wanted, and still want to, end the war for the sake of the Autobots. A stellar cycle later we finally decided to meet, faceplate to faceplate. As you may remember, I was under heavy guard for the first meeting.”

“Yes, we recall that very well.” Alpha Trion laced his digits together and placed them under his chin. “There were fears that there would be an attempt on your life.”

“I feared that as well. However, there was no attempt made. We failed to come to an agreement at our initial meeting due to his Decepticon lieutenants refusing all offers I put forth, and I refused all offers they in turn put forth. Megazarak and I still continued corresponding with one another, even after my return to Cybertron.”

“You abused your powers of office by concealing your messages.”

“I only began to conceal them from public view when the messages became more personal than professional in nature.”

Alpha Trion’s optics flashed and Magnus could tell that he was holding back anger. “That does not excuse what occurred between the both of you.”

“No, I assume it does not.” Magnus’s servos began to shake where he held them to his sides. He clenched them into fists. “To continue answering your question, after another stellar cycle we began exchanging more personal messages. One comment led to another and… I found myself sneaking out one night, meeting him on the moon of a neutral planet between Autobot and Decepticon strongholds.”

“What happened that night?”

“What do you believe happened, Senior Councilor?”

“We need to hear it directly from you,  _ Supreme Commander. _ ”

Magnus sighed loudly, glaring at the eldest of the Councilors. Heat rose into his faceplates. If they were going to play with him, then he would play with them right back. “We interfaced aboard my shuttle.”

There was a tense silence as the High Council stared at him with wide optics. He held back a smirk. “Like turbo-rabbits in heat.”

Highbrow looked like he was going to be ill. Perceptor and Botanica shared a look tinged with disgust. Magnus chose to ignore them.

Alpha Trion continued speaking, his faceplates seemingly pulled a little tighter. “And how often did these trysts last, and how often did they go on?”

“They did not last long. I was back for my duties by the next solar cycle. We met once every decacycle on average, beginning five stellar cycles ago, until now.”

“Five stellar cycles.  _ FIVE _ stellar cycles. Sir, how could you do this to the Autobots?”

“Botanica, please compose yourself,” Highbrow muttered. 

Alpha Trion gave them both a nod before resuming. “When was the last time you had any sort of contact, be it professional or intimate, with Megazarak?”

“A decacycle ago.”

“And if we were go through both your personal and professional communication channels, would we find proof that you have not communicated with Megazarak for a decacycle prior to this date?”

“Indeed you will.”

“Finally, the last question: during your last conversation with Megazarak,” Alpha Trion squinted at the Supreme Commander of the Autobots, and Magnus didn’t miss how the servo that the High Councilor had put on his leg curled into a fist, “was he at all aware that you currently carry his progeny?”

Magnus’s helm shot up, staring straight ahead at the eldest mech with widened optics. A stunned silence befell the room as the other three Councilors processed what the senior High Councilor had just asked.

Then the chambers erupted into angry shouts, a mix of monotone yelling, gentle shrieking, and heavily accented shouts. They demanded answers, wanted to know why, called for his immediate resignation of his post.

In a deep part of his processor, Magnus was amused by the spectacle.

Alpha Trion’s faceplates contorted in an expression of annoyance. He got to his pedes and clapped his servos with such force that the sound bounced off the walls. “ORDER!”

After a moment more of squabbling, the Councilors settled down.

“Explain yourself, Ultra Magnus.” Alpha Trion shook his helm in disappointment, and for a brief moment Magnus felt his spark drop. “Is Megazarak aware of-”

“No, he is not.” His spark twisted, thinking of his and the Decepticon’s last conversation before their affair was uncovered and he was dragged in front of the High Council, hissing and fighting. “During our last conversation, not even I myself was aware of my condition.”

“We will be double-checking your conversation records to make certain that you are not committing perjury.”

“If I may ask the High Council a question.”

“You may.”

“How did you come to be aware of my current carrying cycle?” Magnus again ignored the disgusted noises from the other Councilors, squaring his shoulder struts. “I was only informed by Red Alert about my condition two solar cycles ago.”

“When one is court-martialed it is customary for any medics or therapists that have treated the accused to hand over their files. It was in her notes from your recent appointment that she discovered your condition, and she made a note that you said, and I quote,” Alpha Trion brought a datapad out of his subspace and looked intently at it for a moment before reading aloud, “‘ _ Megazarak is the only one that I have interfaced with in my tenure as Magnus. Only he could be the sire.’ _ ”

The words quoted from the medical file sent another titter through the Council room.

“Before this body disbands, does the defendant have any evidence they would like to present in their favor?” Botanica spoke again, trying to remain calm and keep her normally gentle voice even.

He sighed and shook his helm. “I have already granted the members of this Council access to all my personal files, including records of my conversations with Megazarak. I believe that what you read will be enough of a defense for me.”

“Very well, Supreme Commander.” Alpha Trion and the other Councilors rose to their pedes. “As you yourself have been the judge at many of these trials before, you know what occurs during a trial by court martial, so I will not explain in further detail what happens next.” Alpha Trion stored the datapad back in his subspace, and Magnus noticed how his optics were darkened. “You will be summoned back sometime within a solar cycle to hear what the Council has decided.”

Magnus made no protest as he was cuffed once more, and led out of the chambers.

.-.-.

“I didn’t think you would write what I said verbatim, Red Alert.”

“Well then you don’t know me as well as you thought you did, do you now?” The medic grumbled to herself as she finished the scan of his spark and that of his sparkling. “In any case, I myself didn’t think that I would be subpoenaed. I didn’t realize you’d been arrested. I wanted to fight the Council but it was no use.”

“How so?”

“Under law if someone is accused of treason, I am required to hand over all files I have on them.” Magnus watched as she uploaded the results of the scans onto a small datapad. “I’d have to do the same thing if you were threatening to harm yourself, or bring harm to another bot.”

“I would like to know who was curious enough to discover my condition and give them a piece of my processor.”

“That’s a threat that I can let slide. Be careful. You don’t have much of the High Council on your side at this time, sir.” Red Alert sighed and pulled a needle from its tray, filled with a clear, thick liquid. Magnus tried to squirm away but she managed to yank his arm out and stick him with the sharp instrument, injecting his frame with nanites. “It won’t do you any good to be making threats like you’ve been doing so far.”

“I am aware.” Magnus sighed in relief as the needle was extracted from his frame. “And I apologize.”

“No no, don’t you apologize to me. You’ll have to direct them to the High Council. And I’m curious, how did they react to the news of your condition?”

“They were angry with me. What other emotion did you expect them to show?”

Red Alert was quiet for a minute as she read a datapad and then pressed it into one of his servos. “They’re hurt. They entrusted you, the youngest of the still-serving Primes at the time, with an incredible amount of power. You were the youngest Magnus elected. Do you remember the uproar that came with your appointment?”

He did. He remembered the accusations that he was too inexperienced, despite thousands of stellar cycles of serving as a Prime and being the favorite of his predecessor, who groomed him to take over one day. There were even accusations that he’d done favors for the old Magnus. The thought of it made his tanks lurch, as he saw Powered Convoy as a sire-like figure.

All he could do at the time was keep his helm high, just as he had to now.

“They gave you so much power. And to them, you abused it in a horrific way. Interfacing with the enemy…” Red Alert sighed.

“I didn’t abuse my power, Red Alert. Abusing my power would include-”

“Include harassing the High Council into letting you off scot-free, and concealing all the evidence, I know sir, I know.”

Magnus watched the medic walk away, digging her arms into large medical containers and rummaging around. Remembering the datapad she had given him, he activated it and looked at the information it held.

A picture with text above it greeted him. The text listed him as being the carrier, and Megazarak as the sire.

“Do you see that?” Red Alert was back and hovering before him, small grin on her faceplates. In her servos she held small vials of the same clear liquid that had been injected into his frame.

Magnus looked at the image capture, wondering what it was that he was looking at. He shook his helm once. “What am I looking at?”

Red Alert’s digit pointed to an upper left quarter of the datapad, and he saw a faint point of light among all the static of the capture. “That’s your sparkling.”

Something in his spark stirred upon realizing what was in there. That was his. His sparkling.

Despite himself, he smiled.

“You gave me a timeline of the last few times you interfaced with Megazarak. Judging by the age of the spark, I would say that it was the third-to-last instance that resulted in the conception.”

Magnus thought of that time. He’d sat on Megazarak’s lap, facing him as he rode his spike with abandon. In his processor he could still see how the Decepticon’s optics looked at him lovingly.

And he could still remember the dentae on his neck, the digits stroking along the vents of his chassis. The digits stroking along the seam of his chestplates, enticing him to part them to reveal his spark.

Megazarak’s own spark had been a bright shade of blue compared to the deeper shade of his own.

When they merged… Primus, it was the best thing that he had ever felt.

“When I told you the news, you left immediately and said you needed to think about what to do. So, do you know what you’re going to do?”

“I don’t. I don’t know what I am going to do with this sparkling.” Magnus sighed and shut the datapad off. “Only a cycle after I returned to my quarters I was taken in front of the High Council.”

“You know the options. Termination, carrying and giving for adoption, or keeping the bitlet.”

“I know, Red Alert. I am confused as to what to do.” Magnus placed his helm in his servos. Primus, he had no idea what to do.

“Are you leaning towards a particular course of action, then?”

Magnus moved his servos away from his faceplates and placed them on his lap. “I don’t want to terminate,” he said after a brief pause. “So I am undecided whether to keep or give up the sparkling.”

He thought of how his spark would break if he gave the sparkling up. And then he thought of the uproar that would come if he decided to keep the bitlet.

Either way, he surmised, he was beyond fragged.

“Well...” Red Alert held her servo out for the datapad again, having laid the vials of liquid on a tray. “You have some time to think about what you want to do. I suppose right now your processor is more worried about the trial.”

“Indeed.” Magnus returned the datapad, and was then suddenly seized by a frightening thought. “In the instance that I am found not guilty and not removed from my post, would I be required to… to terminate?”

Red Alert gave him a strange look and shook her helm. “Even if you were found guilty and removed from your post, forcing you to terminate a sparkling would violate your body autonomy. The decision to terminate would be solely at your discretion.”

“That does not mean that the High Council would leave me to my own decision. They are furious with me, Red Alert. I assume they wouldn’t be happy with my decision to not terminate.”

“If they get angry with you, sir,” Red Alert tightened her grip on the datapad, “leave it to me.” When she saw the confused look that the Supreme Commander gave her, she gave him an almost-wicked smile. “I can exert a lot of influence. For example, Councilor Alpha Trion may be afraid of no bot, but when I have a syringe in my servo, well… he can be a bit more agreeable.”

He imagined Red Alert chasing the senior High Councilor through the halls of Fortress Maximus with a syringe, and chuckled.

There was sudden movement outside as the two guards that had brought Magnus to the medical ward at his insistence came inside. He looked at them and arched an optic ridge. “What is the trouble?”

“Their decision has been made, sir,” the femme said. She cuffed him to her wrist and her fellow guard forced him to his pedes. “We’ve been ordered to take you back to the High Council Chambers to hear the verdict.”

Magnus tried to look back at Red Alert, but he was quickly ushered out of the medical bay and given no chance to say that he would come by later.

That was  _ if _ he were allowed to keep his post.


	2. Not Guilty

_Garo wasn’t exactly a neutral planet, but it was close to Autobot territory. They couldn’t meet on any Autobot-affliated planets, for even the most outward planets were heavily fortified and could detect any Decepticon signals entering Autobot space._

_Though a Decepticon planet, it was not heavily guarded. Garo’s moons even less so. It was here that he and Megazarak had agreed to meet._

_No one would think anything of the small shuttles landing on the desolate surface. That was, if anyone happened to see them at all._

_Magnus watched the stars from the window of his small shuttle, standing in front of it with his servos joined behind his back. Though it was a different celestial body he stood on, therefore giving him a different view, he could make out some of the constellations he had learned about as a youngling._

_It was odd seeing them from Garo’s biggest moon instead of the surface of Cybertron, however._

_The door to the shuttle opened, and Magnus didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. He already knew._

_Clearing his vocalizer, he greeted him with, “You kept me waiting.”_

_He heard a chuckle from the other mech. “I felt it only fair. Don’t you remember the time that you kept me waiting on Velocitron’s moon?”_

_That time? Again? It had been over a stellar cycle by now! “A meeting ran late, I already told you so.”_

_“A cycle late? I was half-asleep at the controls of my ship when you finally showed up.”_

_“Yes, well, I’ve apologized for my late appearance many times by now.” Magnus looked over his shoulder strut, and his spark brightened at the sight of the Decepticon commander standing in the entrance to the shuttle. “What is your excuse this time?”_

_“…I overslept my alarm.” The Decepticon leader managed to look a little bit sheepish._

_“Of course.” Magnus turned so he faced Megazarak. “Why am I not surprised in the least?”_

_Megazarak only shook his helm and crossed the distance between the both of them. After a moment of staring into his optics, Magnus felt large servos cup his faceplates and lipplates press against his. He moaned quietly and wrapped his arms around the Decepticon’s neck, smiling as he felt the larger mech’s engine rumbling quietly against his frame._

_The servos cupping his face moved to stroke at his helm fins, making him tremble slightly. Magnus felt his faceplates heat up, and he moved his arms away from the other mech._

_“How do you want me?” he breathed, optics dimmed as he pulled back from the kiss. He reached up with his servos and stroked the Decepticon’s helm, running his thumbs along the protruding bits of armor._

_“It doesn’t matter,” Megazarak’s voice rumbled, optics dimmed. “I just want you, now.”_

_Magnus nodded and pushed Megazarak into the private room aboard the shuttle, guiding him to lie down on the berth pushed up against the wall. When the Decepticon was flat on his back struts, Magnus reached for the warming codpiece, stroking it with deft digits. He smirked at Megazarak. “Open.”_

_Laughing quietly, the Decepticon obeyed. Magnus wasted no time in getting his mouth on that spike, taking the top half into his mouth and wrapping a servo around the base. He enjoyed the little noises he could wring from Megazarak’s vocalizer. The larger mech’s hips bucked, but Magnus pinned them down with his other servo and continued sucking and licking up the length._

_Megazarak laughed after a few moments. “What would your Autobots say if they knew that the mouth that calls them to action, spends nights bringing the enemy leader to overload?”_

_In retaliation Ultra Magnus pulled off the spike and leveled a glare at the Decepticon. The servo wrapped around the base of the spike squeezed a little more harshly than necessary, and Magnus gave a “hmph” as Megazarak made an undignified noise and grunted out, “Your point taken.”_

_“Good.” Deciding the Decepticon was warmed up quite enough, Magnus opened his interface panel and immediately stuffed two of his digits into his valve, spreading himself. The sudden intrusion made his vocalizer spit a small bit of static. He stroked his thumb over the external node, gasping a moment before he recovered. “And what would your Decepticons say if they knew their leader enjoyed taking the enemy leader over and over again, until they could move no more?”_

_“I do believe they would be scandalized.”_

_“As would mine.” Magnus shifted on the berth, putting one leg on each side of the Decepticon’s frame and taking the thick spike into his servo again, guiding it to his valve. “We are both guilty as charged.”_

_“But if we end this,” Megazarak rolled his hips upward, and Magnus gasped as the spike slid completely into his frame, taking the Decepticon to the hilt, “we won’t have to be guilty.”_

_The shuttle became void of conversation, Magnus’s moans and Megazarak’s grunts echoing in the quiet. Magnus rolled his hips, bouncing up and down on the Decepticon’s thighs. He steadied himself by placing his servos on the larger mech’s midsection, tilting his helm back as he rode with abandon. Large servos reached up and gripped at his chest, fingering the vents located at the front of his chassis and eliciting a soft gasping noise from his vocalizer._

_His valve rippled eagerly around the thick spike, sensors pinging him and telling him that he was close to overload. Frag, he needed it, he needed it. It had been a decacycle since their last coupling, but to him it felt like a stellar cycle._

_That was about as often as they could meet. Any more often, and they would likely be discovered not much later._

_Magnus felt one of the Decepticon’s servos stroke down his abdominal plating with swift digits before coming to his valve, swiping over the swollen folds before he inserted a digit up into his valve alongside his spike, and swirled his thumb around the anterior node._

_Megazarak then pressed down on the node, and it almost brought Magnus to overload. His sensors pinged him at a greater rate, telling him that he was about to tip over-_

_Suddenly Megazarak had grabbed him by the hips and flipped them over so Magnus lay on the berth, staring up at the Decepticon with a confused expression. His processor reeled from the sudden loss of stimulation. Megazarak smirked as he slipped out of the wet valve, traveling down so he was close to Magnus’s pelvic plating. He grabbed the sturdy legs and draped them over his shoulder struts before he parted the wet folds of the Autobot’s valve with his digits._

_Magnus moaned as Megazarak’s soft glossa licked up the folds of his valve, parting his thighs even further to accommodate the Decepticon’s width. The motion opened his valve up even more, and Megazarak smirked against his sore interface array as he thrust his glossa into the wet warmth, stimulating deep-set nodes. Magnus breathed out a plea for more as he curled his servos into fists and arched his hips into the other mech’s mouth._

_The other mech chuckled, the vibrations doing something amazing to Magnus. His lower back arched into the air, his servos clenching and unclenching. The soft glossa retracted from his valve, and was replaced by a pair of lips kissing the entrance and the outer node._

_“I am not fragile,” Magnus whispered when the pleasant ping of his node being stimulated subsided. “Don’t hold yourself back.”_

_His vents stuttered as Megazarak moved away from the leaking valve, covering Magnus with his frame. The blue optics of the Autobot looked into searing red optics and he grabbed at Megazarak’s backplates, groaning as the thick head of the other mech’s spike poked at his wet folds again._

_“For you, I’ll hold myself back,” Megazarak rumbled as he leaned down and kissed at Magnus’s neck cables, his spike pushing further into the other mech. “A beautiful treasure such as you should not be handled carelessly.”_

_Despite himself and the spike wedged inside him, Magnus snorted and turned his helm to kiss at Megazarak’s audio receptor. “Just frag me, and cease the theatrics please.”_

_Megazarak chuckled again, and then he thrust._

_Magnus gasped and wrapped his legs around Megazarak’s hips, pulling them together._

_“I know we’re under a ceasefire treaty, but I want this war to end for good.” The Decepticon rolled his hips, smirking. “I am tired of hiding us.”_

_Magnus was also tired of hiding. But in the moment that was the absolute least of his worries. He gripped the sides of Megazarak’s helm with his forearms, pulling the larger mech close. Deep in the pit of his belly he felt fire that was quickly spreading to the other parts of his frame._

_Clearly Megazarak felt it too, as the pace of his thrusts quickened. Magnus looked up and saw that the Decepticon’s red optics turned a brighter shade, a clear sign that he was close. With the last bits of his awareness Magnus felt a surge of transfluid flood his frame, and with that he arched his back and bit down on his bottom lipplate to muffle the sounds of his climax._

_He still gasped aloud, the sound cut off by Megazarak capturing his lips with his. Strong servos cupped his helm, holding onto him through his overload._

_“M-M-Megazarak…” Magnus stuttered out, optics flared a shade of white that slowly darkened back to their natural shade of blue. He fell back onto the berth, groaning softly as the spike in his valve retreated._

_Magnus twitched as the mixture of transfluid and lubricant dripped out of his sopping valve, trickling down his aft and onto the berth. He closed his optics and moaned before reopening them. Megazarak was still above him, bright red optics staring into his. Large servos cupped his face and gentle lipplates met his._

_His spark and spinal strut melted. He wrapped his arms around Megazarak’s neck and returned the kiss with fervor._

_The head of the other mech’s spike entered his valve again. Magnus wrapped his legs around Megazarak’s waist and moved his arms to grip at the Decepticon’s back plates, digits clawing at the larger mech’s back armor and scratching at the paint._

_“I love you,” Magnus breathed, part of his processor wondering if he was being too forward. Much to his surprise, the Decepticon only increased the tempo of his thrusts and gripped his hips with a strength that dented the armor._

_“And I love you. You don’t fathom just how much.”_

_His spark soared. Magnus tilted his helm back, gasping as Megazarak’s denate found his neck cables and bit down._

.-.-.

Magnus shook his helm, spark sinking to the bottom of its chamber as he recalled their last time spent together. It had been a decacycle, plus a few solar cycles, by this point. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to speak to Megazarak and tell him that they were going to be creators.

A small part of him conjured something out of a cheesy novella, where he would steal a ship and take it to the stars to search for his loved one. They would settle somewhere with their sparkling, away from the prying optics of both their factions.

He could probably do it. If he wanted he could leave everything behind, but he wondered if Megazarak would be willing to do the same.

The doors to the chambers loomed in his vision. When he and his two guards stepped closer, they slid open.

The Councilors looked at him as he was dragged in for the second time that solar cycle. Instead of being seated at different podiums on different levels as they’d been before, they were gathered on the ground floor. He met all their gazes in a form of defiance, standing before them as the guards removed the cuff and slunk into the shadows, keeping out of sight and earshot of the group.

He prayed to Primus that they had actually read the correspondences. It was his only defense.

Magnus watched Alpha Trion’s gaze shift from him to the femme standing one mech down from him. Botanica looked at the Senior High Councilor, and after a moment of silence, she nodded and cleared her vocalizer. “We the High Council of Autobots find the defendant, Ultra Magnus, Supreme Commander of Cybertron,” Botanic spoke and looked critically at the blue and white mech, “not guilty on the charges of espionage.”

Magnus felt his shoulder struts droop in relaxation, admittedly the first time he’d felt such a way since the initial arrest.

“After looking through your many, many stellar cycles of correspondence with Megazarak, the High Council concluded that you in fact did not reveal any Autobot intel to the Decepticons. However,” Botanica continued, “we have found you guilty on the charges of risking the security of Cybertron, and fraternizing with the enemy.”

He had expected as much.

Espionage had the potential for execution. Everything else was sparkling’s play.

“As a result of the guilty charges,” Alpha Trion said, “we will place you under confinement for a period lasting ten decacycles. You will not be allowed to venture outside of the walls of Fortress Maximus unless it is on business of utmost importance. When you need to do so, you will be accompanied by a contingent of guards at all times. Your communications, both personal and professional, will also be monitored and recorded.”

“And,” Perceptor jumped in, staring at the Autobot Commander, “we strongly encourage that you terminate your carrying cycle-”

It took all of his willpower to hold back from yelling _“NO!”_ Magnus immediately squared his shoulder struts, and glared harshly at the Councilors. “No. What I decide to do about my carrying cycle is strictly up to me. I will not hear any suggestions concerning it, as good natured and intended as they may be.”

The Councilors looked at each other, incredulous expressions on their faceplates.

“You are not the ones carrying. I am,” Magnus continued. “I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions, and I will not be ordered about like a youngling.”

“What do you intend to do then, Ultra Magnus?” Alpha Trion snapped, crossing his arms over his chassis. “Surely you don’t want to bring a sparkling into this-this mess you’ve created.”

“In fact, Senior High Councilor,” Magnus spat in reply, optics angry, “I intend to keep the sparkling and raise them myself.”

“This is an outrage!” Highbrow exploded, throwing his arms into the air in a gesture of exasperation. “Can you imagine the scandal if this got out?! You’re going to willingly carry, and _raise_ , the sparkling of our enemy?!”

“Megazarak is not our enemy. We are under a tentative ceasefire, and we were working toward the end to the war before I was stripped of my communications abilities."

"Oh, yes," came a derisive snort, "you were most definitely working towards ending this war by putting your mouth and valve to use. Did you intend on ordering us to the do the same to _his_ lieutenants?"

Magnus bristled against Highbrow's words, but composed himself. "Absolutely not. And regardless of what this High Council's feelings might be, I  _will_ be keeping this sparkling, and this topic is no longer up for discussion.”

Perceptor shook his helm. “You are going to regret this, Ultra Magnus.”

Those words spoken in that monotonous voice stopped his processor in its tracks.

Of the comments to come from the Councilors, that one hit him the hardest. In-venting deeply, Magnus thought of what to say next, and how to say it. “Then I have this to say: if the cycle should ever come that I decide that I regret carrying, birthing, and raising my sparkling… I can assure you with utmost certainty that no one will come to know it beyond myself.” He looked pointedly at each Councilor. “Least of all the sparkling, and very least of all this council.”

Silence descended on them. Magnus stared at them all, and they seemed to wither under his harsh gaze as if they were now the ones on trial.

Alpha Trion, who had been looking at a particularly interesting spot on the floor next to his pedes, looked up and cleared his vocalizer. The noise prompted everyone to turn their gazes at him.

“Well I suppose it’s been settled. As much of an uproar as it would cause… it is your life and your sparkling. And we cannot take that from you, whatever you decide.”

Magnus blinked his optics at the elder Councilmech. After a moment of making certain that he really had heard such a thing, he looked at the others. “Are there any other questions or concerns I should hear of?”

“How is this going to be kept secret?” Botanica asked. “Ten decacycles is nowhere near enough time for you to have your sparkling. If anything… correct me if I’m wrong, Perceptor, but doesn’t it take about twenty decacycles for a sparkling to fully develop?”

“It varies between twenty and twenty two for most frames, so you are correct. However, her point still stands. You will be halfway through the carrying cycle, or more, by the time your confinement period is over.”

Setting his lipplates in a firm line, Magnus shook his helm. “We’re not going to keep this a secret. Why should we?”

“There’ll be talk, rumors,” Highbrow said. “And prying optics will notice the physical changes of your frame.”

“Then if necessary I will stand in front of my troops,” Magnus replied, “and tell them that yes, I am carrying. But they do not need to know the identity of the sire. Not yet, at least.”

“No, of course not,” Alpha Trion muttered into his servo that he’d slapped over his faceplates.

Magnus looked and narrowed his optics at the elder mech, frowning in disapproval. “Why the “of course not”, Alpha Trion?”

Looking up and meeting his optics, taking his servo away from his faceplates, Alpha Trion gave a derisive laugh. “Of course the Autobots don’t need to know of this yet. However, once the news is revealed, it’s not like no one will try to do some digging and go to the presses with the news that our Commander got himself sparked up by _the enemy_.”

Botanica hummed and nodded in assent. “Imagine how much they would get in credits for breaking that news.”

His tanks churned, partially in fear. He imagined what would be said and done to him if such a thing were to happen.

Primus, the scandal that would arise. If he weren't exterminated, he would be exiled to a far-away stronghold for the rest of his cycles. Magnus quashed further thoughts of it and shook his helm. “If someone is caught trying to access my medical records, they will be court-martialed. It is against the code of conduct for anyone to access medical records and files unless they are in a position to treat the bot in a medical manner. For now, it is only us here, and Red Alert, that know the truth behind my sparkling’s parentage.”

“Fine.” Alpha Trion glared at Magnus, who in turn returned the glare. “I suppose there really is no reasoning with you, Supreme Commander.”

“Oh, I can be reasoned with. My question, after the events of this meeting, is whether this Council itself is capable of making reasonable decisions.” Ignoring the offended sputters coming from Highbrow’s direction, he continued, “It is unethical that this Council would go so far as to even suggest to their Supreme Commander that he should terminate his carrying cycle.”

Alpha Trion’s lipplates almost disappeared as he thinned them. The Senior Councilor grit out, “We have the best intentions at spark for you, Ultra Magnus. We were only acting on what we thought was right.”

“You thought incorrectly. If you believed suggesting – though by the tone of your voices, it felt more like an _order_ – a termination when you have no place to do so was the right thing to do, then I worry what other suggestions you as a group may make in the future. Perhaps this is a sign that the High Council needs to be replaced.”

He brushed the glares of the High Councilors off his plating, nonchalantly changing the subject. “Now that I am under house arrest, how am I to go about my confinement period?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had most of the smut scene written in a document of scraps, so it took me a weekend (and procrastinating on homework, RIP me) to finish this chapter. 
> 
> Future updates will probably not come as quickly as this, so enjoy this new chapter as much as you can! ^_^


	3. Scratching the Surface

_He mulled over what to tell the mech on the other end of the conversation._

_Normally he would have just sent off a reply just to be done with it. Of course, those were in the cases of more ordinary mechs and femmes, asking questions that were easy enough to provide answers to._

_This mech on the other end was not ordinary, however._

_He stared at the message that had popped up in his inbox a few cycles ago, turning his lipplates downward into a frown. Magnus raised his digits over the keypad for the fourth time that night, ready to begin his response, but then he drew them back again. He set them on his legs and drummed them against his thighs._

_He didn’t know what to say. What could one say when the leader of the Decepticons decided to send a message at random, asking what they could do to put this war to an end._

_It was such a sudden thing. They had met only once, on the battlefield, during his first fight as Magnus._

_He remembered Megazarak and how the other mech had gawked at him even while he swung the Magnus Hammer in his faceplates, whacking with all his might and sending the Decepticon leader flying across the battlefield into a ditch._

_And he remembered being startled when Megazarak jumped to his pedes and called for his army to retreat from the battlefield._

_Kup had said that that was the shortest battle he’d taken part in._

_Magnus lightly tapped his digits over the keypad, trying to formulate a response in his processor. In the end, he only wound up typing two sentences:_

Your message has been received and read; so how do you propose that we end this war, Megazarak?

-Signed, Ultra Magnus

Supreme Commander of the Autobots-

_He mulled over the sentence for a moment longer. Finding he had nothing more to say, he pressed a confirmation button and sent it before he could change his processor._

.-.-.

“Happy to see that your helm wasn’t put on a stick and paraded around Cybertron while your spark guttered out.”

What a way to be greeted. He looked with wide optics and arched ridges at the medic entering his private quarters. “I’m sorry?”

“They did that millions of stellar cycles ago with a certain Prime, forgot their designation.”

“I don’t remember hearing about it. Primus, what did they do to deserve such an end?”

“It was during the tenure of Powered Convoy’s predecessor, Nova Magnus. One of his Primes was caught selling intelligence of Protectobot activity to the Destrons during their war. You don’t remember this, sir?”

“No, but it’s been many stellar cycles since I looked up the history before the Autobots were formed.”

“Terrible things the Protectobots did under Nova Magnus.” Red Alert clacked her glossa against her dentae and shook her helm. “We’re a little more civilized. If someone’s helm is removed it’s not paraded in the streets of Cybertron.”

The thought sent an ugly shiver through Ultra Magnus’s spinal strut and he knew he’d visibly blanched. ‘I would have rather my spark be ripped out if I had been found guilty of espionage.”

“And I’d rather they’d keep you alive in the first place,” said Red Alert as she prodded him with a needle. He squeezed his optics shut and held his breath as she injected him with necessary nutrients, stifling the urge to yank his arm away. “You’re one of the few mechs I actually like. Pity I can’t stand most everyone.”

“I’m curious. Who else do you profess to “like”?”

“Kup’s a stubborn aft that refuses to stop ruining his intakes with that Primus forsaken cy-gar, but he can hold his own in a fight. The mech’s got a good spark. Perceptor, sometimes.” Red Alert pulled the needle out, clicking her glossa at Magnus as a way of telling him he could stop hiding behind his optic covers. “Gets on my nerves.”

“He was the one that told me that I should consider terminating my carrying cycle.”

Red Alert stopped in her tracks and stared at him. Magnus noted how she tightened her grip on the syringe.

“Did he now?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. I’ll have to have words with him. Now, you said you decided what to do. So what is it?”

Magnus sighed and drummed his digits against the surface of the berth. “I’ve decided that I’m going to keep it.”

Red Alert went quiet for a moment and looked at him, almost as if measuring him with her optics, before nodding. She reached into her subspace and pulled out a datapad, handing it to him.

“You’ll be needing this datapad.”

Magnus looked at it curiously, taking it into his servo and turning it on. The screen lit up, and he could read the title.

““ _You and Your Sparkling: A Guide_ ”?” he repeated the title aloud, arching an optic ridge.

“Exactly what it says. A datapad on how to deal with everything that is going to happen these next couple of decacycles. I was going to give it to you whether or not you kept the sparkling. But now that you’ve decided to keep the sparkling,” Red Alert reached into her subspace again and produced a second datapad, “you’ll also be needing this.”

Setting the other datapad aside, Magnus turned it on.

““ _A Guide to Surviving the First Stellar Cycle_.”” Magnus looked at the red and white femme, who grinned uncharacteristically brightly at him. “That makes me think I’m about to be held prisoner, Red. I’m beginning to fear what’s to come.”

“You’ll be fine, sir. Less capable bots than yourself have been through this before and have come out on the other side perfectly fine. Now,” Red Alert pulled out yet another datapad, the first one that she didn’t give to Magnus to read, and activated it. “From the tests I ran, the results show that you and Megazarak indeed conceived your sparkling about three decacycles ago. This means that after your confinement period, you’ll have anywhere from seven to nine decacycles to go until your sparkling emerges.”

“Will I be able to carry on my duties in those seven to nine decacycles?”

“For the first half of that period you could, but it’ll be extremely uncomfortable for you and the sparkling to be sitting down at your desk. It’s best for you to take some time off before you go into emergence.”

The thought of the ten decacycles of confinement was troubling enough, but the implication that he should take this entire time off made him very uneasy. Magnus put his servos together, lacing the digits and fidgeting. “I don’t think I can do that, Red Alert. I need to keep myself occupied somehow, even if all I am doing is filling out datapads.”

“Fine, but make sure you get up and walk around every so often. You’ll have a sparkling pressing down on your pelvic struts and trust me when I say it’s going to be very uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive, Red Alert.”

“Also,” she stared critically at him, “I know you tend to take on a lot of work and you always ignore me, but in this instance you better listen. There’s no need for you to stress over it and to stress your sparkling. Which brings me to another subject – no ingesting high grade or other dangerous substances for your sparkling. Is that clear?”

Magnus frowned at the medic, thoroughly offended at her words. “Red, I am not a youngling who accidentally got himself sparked up and needs such warnings against destructive behaviors.”

“No, but you are the Autobot Commander who got himself unwittingly sparked in the middle of a ceasefire between us and the Decepticons.”

Both medic and Autobot Commander glared at each other, but Magnus knew that she’d gotten him. He sighed and placed a servo over his optics. “In any case, I don’t need to be told that high grade and other recreational drugs and substances are dangerous for sparklings.”

“I know, sir. I’m just going to have to go through the usual script.”

Magnus removed his servo and watched as the femme swiped her digit a few times across the screen of the datapad. “Another question I’m required to ask: do you know of any diseases or defects on either yours or Megazarak’s familial lines that the sparkling could inherit?”

“Megazarak was forged cold so there is nothing to report there. My own creators never showed signs of diseases or defects… unless you can count complete indifference toward their creation as a defect.”

He immediately regretted tacking that last part onto his answer when he saw the wide-optic’d expression on the medic’s faceplates. “It is possible that it was an illness. Do you know if the indifference resulted from your birth?”

Magnus huffed. “My carrier and sire weren’t happy at the prospect of becoming creators. I’ll leave it at that.”

“No you’re not.” Red Alert frowned and tapped something into the keypad. “It sounds like post-birth depression and apathy. Mental illnesses. Did they ever get better?”

“Red Alert,” Magnus thinned his lipplates and glared at the medic, “that is something I don’t want to get into.”

“Well like it or not you’re going to have to tell me what you know of your family history, sir. This is for the sparkling.”

“Fine.” Magnus uncurled servos that he was unaware he’d balled into fists and placed them on his lap. Memories of his stellar cycles as a youngling surged into his processor, but he quickly cut them off, focusing on the matter at servo. “My familial medical history. Unfortunately, that is all I know.”

Red Alert looked at him over her datapad, narrowing her optics. Knowing what she was thinking, he was quick to reply, “I know you might find it hard to believe me, but that is the truth. All I know is that my creators were indifferent towards me even before I emerged. They enjoyed repeating that fact to me as often as they could, and even if they had not I could have drawn conclusions myself.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Strangely enough I learned to tell my sire and carrier those exact words when they bemoaned how I was such a burden.”

“Sir-”

“This is only scratching the surface, Red Alert.”

“Sir, if you are not familiar with your genetic medical history you should have told me at the beginning instead of trying to circumvent the question.” Red Alert sighed, and Magnus watched as she tapped the datapad a few times. “Just in case, however, I will be putting a note in here that it seems like your carrier might have been prone to post-emergence depression and apathy. It’s known to happen in new carriers, and there’s some research that was done that suggests it could also be passed down through generations. Though given that I do not know the full extent of your carrier’s attitude toward you…”

Magnus sighed heavily and placed a servo over his optics, curling his thumb and fore-digit in and pinching his nasal ridge. “It’s fine. I would just rather not talk about it.” He removed the servo and met Red Alert’s cautious gaze. “There is a reason I am not open about my past.”

Red nodded and swiped her digit across the datapad screen, clearing her vocalizer. “I’m required to say this, but I won’t force you to unless you begin to pose a danger to yourself or your sparkling. We do have a counseling wing. If you won’t open up about your past to me, perhaps with one of our-”

“Not an option.”

The femme pursed her lipplates in frustration. “Fine. Getting to the next set of questions… how are you coping with this turn of events?”

Magnus got to his pedes and walked over to the large window of his quarters, staring out at the skyscrapers in Iacon. It was daytime, and though it was beautiful, he had a stronger preference for the cityscape at night.

He thought back to the moment he’d decided to respond to Megazarak, those stellar cycles ago. He thought of how he wouldn’t be in this position, had he not replied.

No. He wouldn’t be in this position if he had only pulled himself back and walked away, hadn't given into his primal desires and into his spark. 

“I’m not familiar with the state of exhaustion,” he mused aloud, putting his arms behind his back and holding onto his right wrist with his left servo. “But I think after this is over, and I settle into the role of being a carrier, exhaustion and I will be great friends.”

“Not well then, I take it?”

Magnus shook his helm. “Despite the energon supplements that I’ve been ingesting to both help the sparkling’s development, and keep my energy levels high, I find myself nodding off more often than I should.”

“You’re carrying. No one is going to expect you to have the energy you did before you got sparked.”

“No one that knows my true condition, that is.” Magnus in-vented and ex-vented. “Only a servoful of us at Fortress Maximus know. That servoful consists of myself, the High Council, and you. I’ve been forbidden to tell Megazarak in case the news spreads to his Decepticons. The cadets, the Minors and Majors and my Primes don’t know what I am going through, and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as I can.”

He heard Red make a slightly derisive noise next to him and turned his helm to see that she was standing right next to him. “Sir, given your stature and the stature of Megazarak, you won’t be able to hide your condition for very long. And anyone that knows what to look for will be able to see that your plating is slowly starting to distend.”

A wave of panic overtook the Magnus’s systems, and he put his servos to his abdominal plating, feeling around for… well, for any outward sign of his carriage.

Part of him felt he was only imagining it, but he was certain he felt something. A very miniscule lift of midsection plating, curving outward. He pulled his servos away and dropped them to his sides as Red Alert continued, “In my opinion it’s best to let them know now.”

“And what would I respond when they ask who the other creator of my sparkling is?”

“That it’s a personal secret?”

“That won’t go over well, Red Alert. The High Council and I discussed this matter and we feel that if I give that answer, someone might try to access my files and since Megazarak’s designation is on there…”

The medic made a noise of comprehension. “I see your predicament.”

“I am in many predicaments as of now, Red.” Magnus put his servos to his optics and sighed heavily. “I’ve already had to suffer a trial that, thank Primus, still left me in my current post. I am carrying and dealing with all that comes with it. Now I have to worry that this secret will be discovered.”

Both mech and femme stood in silence for a few minutes, Magnus looking out of the window and Red Alert tapping on the datapad’s screen.

“You’ve come out of many other predicaments unscathed, sir. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

.-.-.

Magnus stared at the last message he’d sent Megazarak through his communication channel, and Megazarak’s response. His spark twisted, wondering why the Decepticon hadn’t tried to send him something else after their last conversation. Megazarak was normally the one to initiate the conversations, being the more talkative of the both of them.

He lifted his digits to the keypad, forming a message in his processor until he remembered that his messages were being read. There really was no possible way he could tell Megazarak his piece of news.

Sighing, he closed the compose message window.


	4. Let Them See

_The more he spoke with Megazarak, the more he found himself looking forward to their discussions. He was happy to have found a good conversation partner in the Decepticon, which was something he had sorely needed since he had taken up the office and Hammer of Magnus. It was a comforting and startlingly new experience just to talk to someone who wasn’t blinded by awe. Too many times had he come across bots that were too easily impressed by his position of power._

_Everyone else was all-too eager to agree with him, lest they incur his wrath. Most also wanted some sort of favor done for them._

_Megazarak was the first mech in a long, long while he’d met that was perfectly okay with the idea of actually… disagreeing with him. And he demanded nothing but that they work on a ceasefire treaty that was also to the liking of the majority of their factions._

_Magnus woke up to a pinging noise, a sign that he had an unread message waiting for him in his inbox. He sighed and looked at his chronometer._

_It was still the middle of the night cycle on his end. Who the frag would be glitched enough to try and talk to him at this hour?_

_He opened the message and read it with tired optics, then had to reread it again._

I’m sorry for waking you at this time of night on Cybertron. But I want to know something, Ultra Magnus. What would you consider to be the most beautiful sight in the universe?

-Megazarak-

_The message confused him. All this previous talk of politics, religion, philosophy, and the history of Cybertron and its territories before the Autobot/Decepticon split, yet this was what he was woken in the middle of the night for?_

_Magnus would normally have left a response for later, when he was functioning better and more awake, but he didn’t want to leave the Decepticon hanging._

_What was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen? He had lived a long time. There were many contenders._

_He closed his optics and thought for a moment, narrowing down his favorite sights, before composing a response:_

I witnessed the end of a star’s life once. A supernova. It was one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen. What made it more beautiful were the mountains which surrounded me when I saw it. I’ve yet to witness another one.

-Ultra Magnus, SC of Cybertron-

_He was about to return to recharge when he got another ping. Groaning in frustration, he opened the message instead of leaving it for the morning._

Meet me on Intel tonight. I have something that I want to show you.

-Megazarak-

_He was curious. But he wondered if he was curious enough to actually sneak out of the base in the middle of the night cycle._

_Then he decided that as he was now wide awake, he most certainly was._

_Leaping out of berth, he grabbed the Magnus Hammer and locked the door behind him as he headed for the hangar bay. He saw one guard that seemed on the verge of recharging, but the benefit of being Magnus was that no one questioned him. He hated to abuse the power of his position… but he decided this was perfectly fine._

_On the way to Intel he thanked Primus that the Autobot Academy had mandated basic piloting lessons when he had been a cadet, hundreds of thousands of stellar cycles prior. He had hoped that if an emergency arose, he would remember how to handle it. It was strange, being at the helm of a ship (however small it was) instead of having a subordinate piloting him around in the Steelhaven._

_When he reached the outermost Decepticon planet, the radar on the small shuttle pinged him and informed him that there was a sign of life on the normally deserted planet._

_Megazarak. Located at one of the highest of the glowing peaks._

_Magnus felt awe at the sight. He had never seen Intel’s mountains at night. During the day, they were large and looming, a sight to behold even then, but now…_

_Crystals of many colors jutted out of the peaks, bathing the planet in a soft, multicolored glow._

_He landed the shuttle a short distance from where the lifesign was, and braced himself for whatever might happen. Grabbing the Magnus Hammer from where he had laid it on the floor, he disembarked and walked over to the familiar-looking frame in the distance. The closer he got, the more detailed the frame became._

_The wide, spiked shoulder struts and the bright red accents along a dulled black plating confirmed that the frame was indeed Megazarak. Magnus found himself smiling._

_Red optics that had only once held him in contempt before being bashed in with the same weapon he held in his servo, looked at him. Unlike that encounter, this time a wide smile appeared on the Decepticon’s faceplates._

_“You didn’t respond. I was so certain you’d gone to berth again and that I would be left alone.”_

_“Well just as you so rudely awakened me, I thought I might return the favor and keep you waiting.”_

_Megazarak laughed, a deep rumbling noise that settled Magnus’s wary spark. The Decepticon reached out and grabbed the other mech’s servo, gently pulling him towards his frame._

_“I’ve seen many stars meet their ends. And I was told only a short while ago that I would have the chance to see another, so I thought that there is only one mech in the universe that I think would enjoy this view. But of course, I had to be absolutely certain.”_

_“That is… surprisingly thoughtful of you. I wouldn’t have taken you to be the kind of mech to do such a thing, Megazarak.”_

_“Hmm, I can be thoughtful. Remember, I was the one to initiate the conversation asking how to end this fight,” the Decepticon half-joked._

_Megazarak’s dentae were normally a dull color, but they were brilliant in the night, illuminated only by starlight and the blues of Magnus’s optics. Magnus got it in his processor that he might lean in closer to the other mech, but then Megazarak looked up and a grin broke across his faceplates._

_“Look up.”_

_He did, and a faint star thousands of lightyears away suddenly brightened, in a moment of terribly beautiful destruction. Magnus heard himself gasp in surprise, as the light of the surrounding stars was blocked out by the stunning brilliance of the explosion._

_After witnessing the first supernova so many eons ago, which albeit wasn’t as brilliant as this one, he had read up what he could about the life cycle of stars. He knew that as they exploded, they released energy and other compounds in the universe. Someday another star would form in its place, and possibly host new worlds and new civilizations that would take to the stars._

_There was a poetic beauty in knowing that the star would be reborn. In death, life would emerge once more._

_So entranced in the beauty of the supernova was Magnus that he didn’t feel the gentle touch of Megazarak’s digits on his faceplates until his entire servo was tenderly cupping his helm. He tore his gaze from the exploding star and stared hard at the Decepticon, who slightly withered under his gaze and retracted his servo._

_“I’m sorry. I overstepped my boundaries.”_

_Magnus blinked once and tightened his grip on the Hammer. “Why did you feel the need for that?”_

_Megazarak at least had the decency to look down and have an expression of slight shame on his faceplates. He tapped his digits where he held them against his side before answering, “Your expressions have always fascinated me. Your expression when you saw the star die did something to my spark, Ultra. And that gasp you gave…”_

_“What about it?”_

_“I have been hiding it from even myself. I love you, and have since the moment I saw you rushing at me on the battlefield.”_

_The star continued to explode above them, and around and below the crystals shone brilliantly._

_Megazarak lifted his servo, but then looked at Magnus almost as if asking for permission. Magnus nodded, and watched and felt as the servo cupped his chin. The Decepticon stared at him, then leaned in._

_He threw all semblance of propriety away, let the Hammer drop to his side, and yanked Megazarak’s helm down with his servos. Their lipplates met, rough and bruising, but neither of them cared the least bit. Megazarak pulled him closer, and Magnus used both of his servos to hold onto the Decepticon’s chassis, panting between kisses._

_Magnus pulled back after a klik, gasping and panting as his vents flared open to expend the building heat. He looked around their environment, searching for other signs of life, trying his best to ignore the nibbles against his neck and the caresses of his chassis that were sending heat coursing through his neural net._

_“What are you searching for?” Megazarak asked between hungry nips at neck cables._

_Holding the other mech’s helm in a servo and stifling wanton moans, Magnus turned his optics to the stars again. “Someone,” Magnus breathed out, optics scanning the sky to make sure that no one was hovering above them to see their treason. “Anyone who should not see this.”_

_“Let them see,” Megazarak hissed as he seized the other mech’s lipplates again._

_Magnus wrapped his arms around the larger bot’s neck, deepening their kiss, and arched his hips up to meet the Decepticon’s interfacing panel. His own valve cover snapped open at the contact, and he cried out when the other servo left his chassis and two thick digits plunged into the slick heat. His valve rippled around the intruding digits; he gripped Megazarak’s frame and rolled his hips, gasping and begging for more._

_“Let them see,” Megazarak repeated as he thrust his digits in and out. Magnus cried out again, more so in pleasure than in pain, and heard the Decepticon continue, “And let them say what they want.”_

.-.-.

“-and we certainly hope that the cyberkitten finds a new playmate. Did you see the optics on that little thing? Primus, my spark breaks!”

“Oh, mine as well! That is all bots, until the morning cycle, we are the news team-”

Thoroughly annoyed, Magnus shut off the newsfeed and wondered why he’d even bothered turning it on. There was nothing worth mentioning; lately, what came across the newsfeeds of Cybertron were nothing but “fluff pieces,” as he’d heard them called once. Then he remembered why he’d turned it on: he wasn’t allowed to tend to his duties.

He’d already rewatched some of his favorite films from his younglinghood, which admittedly wasn’t very many. He’d paced around his quarters more times than he cared to admit. The datapads of his favorite novels were on the small shelf on the other end of his berthroom, but he wasn’t up to rereading them.

Browsing those anonymous, online conspiracy theory threads found him getting worked up at the inanity of it all. He could entertain some stupidity, but there was a limit and they all went so far over the line that his processor spun, and he refused to believe that those posters were actual, living bots. He had tried finding other places to alleviate his boredom, but nothing else entertained him for more than five minutes.

And he could only watch so many videos of cyberkitten shenanigans.

Free time. He remembered how often he used to dream about it when he was running ragged and getting the bare minimum amount of recharge.

Sighing, Magnus looked at the small stack of datapads on his berthside table and decided that if he was going to have so much free time on his servos, he might as well get his assigned reading out of the way.

 _You and Your Sparkling_ was on top of the pile. He picked it up and activated it, reading the first few lines.

Dear Primus, the language was insufferable. It was _extremely_ informal. He was used to more formal language when reading. Then again, he had spent the better part of his life cycle reading, among other things, formally dictated and written intel reports and law statutes.

He wanted to ask Red Alert why he would subject him to such torture. He decided against it, braced himself, and began to read.

_There are so few events in one’s lifecycle that rival the importance – and intensity – of birthing your sparkling. This bitlet that you are bringing into your life will become so important that you will do anything to nurture their little minds and protect their little sparks. Your eagerness to form this bond between you both is reflected by your attention to this datapad. You want to do everything you can to ensure a successful and healthy carrying cycle and a wonderful start to your sparkling’s life-_

No. He had to stop. He unceremoniously dropped the datapad on his berth and pinched his nasal ridge between his thumb and fore-digit, sighing loudly.

After a moment of mental and emotional recovery, he set up a communication link.

::Red Alert.::

A moment of pause, a rustle of something on her end, and then he heard the medic reply ::Yes sir?::

::Do you happen to have any other texts relating to the carrying cycle that I can read?::

::I do, but sir, what I gave you is the most comprehensive text about carrying cycles that I have on file. Everything else is _far_ more detailed::

::Then let me rephrase my question: do you happen to have any other, _more tolerable_ , texts about the carrying cycle that I will be able to read and _not_ have to take a moment to recover after every paragraph?::

The medic made a noise of understanding after a few nano-kliks of thought. ::Yes sir. I’ll have First Aid copy the more detailed files to a spare datapad when he gets here, and I’ll go deliver it to you in a cycle when I get off::

::Thank you. I appreciate it::

Magnus closed off the communication link and sat on his berth, shutting the discarded datapad off and placing it back on top of the datapad pile. He drummed his digits on his lap, sighing as he stared ahead at nothing in particular.

If he couldn’t leave the confines of his quarters to step into his office, he at least wished he had the ability to have someone else bring some of his work datapads to him.

Being under confinement meant that he was still Magnus, but in name only. He hadn’t held the Magnus Hammer since it had been taken from him before the court martial, and he was completely at the mercy of the High Council.

He wouldn’t be reinstated to his full position until the confinement period was up, and it was nine decacycles until that solar cycle would come.

If there was anything he’d missed, it was the weight of the Hammer in his servo. After all this time being the Magnus, he’d gotten far too used to having it in his grip. He’d wake up and reach to the side of berth, searching for it, before realizing it was locked away somewhere where he couldn’t access it.

He laid down on his berth, arms under his helm, and sighed as he closed his optics.

.-.-.

Ultra Magnus was awakened by pings on his communication channel. Checking the chronometer, he realized he’d fallen asleep for longer than he had intended.

::Sir, I’m waiting outside::

::Yes, I’ll be there shortly Red Alert::

He swiftly got to his pedes. That was a mistake – his tanks churned violently, and he braced himself against the wall, heaving as he tried to settle his tanks. His processor spun, making him feel extremely dizzy. The ill sensation didn’t go away.

::Sir?::

When he tried to take a step, the sick feeling in his tanks only intensified further.

::Red Alert, I can’t walk to the door. Use your override code::

A split nanoklik later he heard the medic rush in and search the other rooms for him before she entered his berthroom. She set the datapad in her servo on his berth.

“What’s ailing you?”

“I got up to open the door, and my tanks decided to stage a revolt.”

“Ah,” he heard Red Alert say, watching out of the corner of his optics as she nodded. “Nausea. Never a pleasant feeling.”

Magnus in-vented deeply and slowly straightened his posture, putting the back of his servo against his lipplates, willing himself to not purge. “Is it a symptom of something dangerous?”

“No, unless you count the burn in your throat cables dangerous. In all seriousness, you’re fine. I’m a little surprised that you hadn’t felt it until now,” he heard her trail off, and he didn’t have the strength to protest when she stuck him with a syringe, “as most carriers feel it almost immediately.”

“Immediately…?”

“Immediately when they get sparked, I meant.”

Magnus felt the syringe pull away from him and he sighed in relief when the nauseated sensations alleviated somewhat. “I should have drawn that conclusion.”

“Ah, you’re fine. Now, here’s the other datapad I had mentioned to you.”

He turned around slowly as to not aggravate his tanks again and took the offered datapad into his servo, sighing as he brought it online.

Oh yes, this text was far better. It was to the point, which he highly preferred over the disgustingly patronizing tone that the other datapad had.

“And if there’s a term in there that you’re not familiar with, you can access a dictionary on the grid. That was why I had wanted you to read that first datapad, so all the information would already be included in that piece of work.”

“Well if the language weren’t so nauseating, I would have continued to read…” Magnus trailed off, and he could feel the medic’s optics on him warily. He closed his optics and curled his servos into fists; the nauseated feeling was back, with a vengeance.

“Waste can, now” he managed to say, putting a servo to his mouth and using the other one to point at a corner of his berthroom. Just as he felt it making its way up, Red Alert shoved it under his helm. He gripped it with both servos and slid down to the floor, sitting and clutching the waste can between his thighs as he curled over it and retched horridly into its depths.

Off to his left, he heard the medic sigh and place a comforting servo on his backstrut, rubbing up and down as he continued to purge his tanks.


	5. He?

_“So were you born of two other bots?”_

_He arched an optic ridge at the Decepticon. Such a forward question – he’d been asked it once, and feeling that it was not that bot’s business, he stared them down until they withered and apologized for asking in the first place._

_“This is only our fourth instance meeting face-to-face.”_

_Megazarak leaned against the nearest wall in the corridor, lipplates turning upward into a smile. “I’m aware of that, Ultra Magnus.”_

_“Fourth instance,” the Autobot Commander reiterated, tilting his helm to the side a minute fraction. “Why are you asking such a deeply personal question?”_

_“I like to learn whatever I can about my honored guests.”_

_“Oh yes, you did mention that you like to live by the motto “Keep your enemies closer.””_

_Megazarak also tilted his helm in the same direction as he had (_ “Is he mocking me?” _Magnus thought to himself) and looked at the Magnus with cheerful optics. “Magnus, you know now that I don’t consider you an enemy.”_

_“We may have kept up correspondence for the past… two stellar cycles, is it? But the bottom of it is that you and I lead the warring factions of this conflict, and we will remain enemies in title until we agree on a peace treaty.”_

_The Decepticon leader snorted and turned his frame slightly toward the entrance to the hallway, looking intently for a few moments before he turned back to face the Magnus. “I don’t know if you were actually there in processor, but my top lieutenants were doing all they could to sabotage the peace negotiations.”_

_Snorting, Magnus thought to the previous three times they’d tried to make nice. “I’ve been here each time, and they continue to insist that the Autobot Commonwealth transfer our outermost planets to the Decepticon empire. Nevermind that the Decepticon empire is far vaster than ours.”_

_“Oh, you don’t think I’ve been listening? I know that. My point is that I think we will be considered enemies for life if they don’t get their helms out of their afts. They want to see how far they can push their luck before these treaty negotiations are called off.”_

_“Why would they want them to be called off in the first place is a mystery.”_

_“Not to me.” Megazarak crossed his arms over his chassis. “They’re used to war. The concept of peace and having to play nice with these accursed Autobots doesn’t sit well with them. I can tell that your Autobots don’t enjoy the thought either – that Councilor that sat next to you, with the facial symbols and the cloak-”_

_“Alpha Trion,” Magnus offered._

_“Yes, him. He glowered at my lieutenants when they spoke, but at me specifically.” Megazarak frowned. “At this rate our own soldiers may continue the war in our stead.”_

_Magnus furrowed his optic ridges in thought. “Then yes, the same concept would apply to my Autobots. I had wondered…” he trailed off and sighed. “It doesn’t matter. But what we need to do is-”_

_“I’ll happily sign a peace treaty without their input or their approval. At this rate I feel as if they deserve that..”_

_“If that truly is the case, then you are a dictator in name. I am the elected Magnus of Cybertron so I cannot just sign a peace treaty, or any treaty, without input from the elected High Council.”_

_“My liege,” came a third voice that Magnus did not know._

_Both Autobot and Decepticon leaders turned to look at the entrance to the hallway, where they saw a silhouette. The frame drew closer, and Magnus was able to glimpse the finer features of the unknown frame._

_“You don’t have to address me so formally,” Megazarak told the strange mech with a hint of exasperation in his voice, “I’ve told you already.”_

_Magnus couldn’t resist from asking, “Who are you?”_

_The third bot ignored him and only looked at Megazarak. “Lugnut has threatened some of the Autobot Councilors that came along with this one, with physical violence.”_

_Magnus frowned at the lack of respect, but resisted the urge to correct the impudent mech._

_Megazarak looked down and tapped his digits against the wall in frustration before looking back at the Decepticon that had come to him. “Tell Lugnut that his leader orders him to step away from the Autobots if he is not going to give an attempt at civility. And thank you for informing me, Megatron.”_

_The bot bowed. “As you wish, Lord Megazarak.”_

_Magnus watched the other mech walk away. When he was out of sight, he turned back to Megazarak and raised an optical ridge. “Is he related to you?”_

_“No, shockingly. I assume it was the shoulder struts that gave you that opinion.”_

_Shaking his helm in the negative, Magnus responded, “The prefix “Mega-” in both of your designations made me wonder.”_

_“Ah yes, I can see where that might be confusing. No.” Megazarak drummed his digits against the wall again, lipplates twisting as if in contemplation. “He was found as a youngling. He vocalized having had creators but no idea of where they went, so he was brought to me and I took him in.”_

_“So then he’s your adopted creation.”_

_“Of a sort. I did my best to be a good creator for a few stellar cycles, but soon I became too busy with leadership of the Decepticons and I began leaving him with my lesser-ranked lieutenants who had, frankly, very little to do.” Megazarak wiped his lipplates with his free servo and took other arm off the wall. “I don’t think he exactly forgave me for abandoning him, as he sees it.”_

_Magnus had nothing to say, so he looked at the floor for a moment before looking back up. “I’m sorry.”_

_“He’s a stubborn mech but he’ll come around. Now,” it was as if a switch had been activated, as Megazarak’s faceplates brightened as he looked back at Magnus, “to get back to our original conversation. Care to tell me of your history?”_

_Giving him the flattest look he could muster, Magnus shook his helm. “Absolutely not.”_

_He couldn’t believe his optics as the Decepticon leader pouted and gave him a pathetically offended look._

.-.-.

“You mentioned still having morning nausea.”

“Not _morning_ , Red Alert. It’s mid-afternoon to early evening nausea.”

“Clinically we still call it that, even if it occurs in the middle of the night cycle. Either case, don’t fret, you’re nearing the cutoff point for nausea so soon you won’t have to have a waste can put to your mouth at all times.”

“I certainly hope so-”

“Then again there have been serious cases documented where the nausea lasts the entire duration of the carrying cycle and gets to the point where an induced early labor is necessary-”

Magnus curled a servo around the edge of the berth he lay on, staring with wide optics at the medic. “Are you trying to give me a spark attack?”

“No. I’m only letting you know that it does happen. But don’t fear, the chances of it happening are low.”

The Autobot Commander watched as the red and white armored femme busied herself with setting up the equipment she needed to scan his frame. He sighed and laid down on the medical berth, looking to the wall on the opposite end.

The surfaces in the medical ward, though not actual mirrors, had reflective properties. It was on the other wall that Magnus saw how the previously imperceptible swell of his midsection was now a slight bump. He frowned at the reflection; he was not looking forward to continuing the carrying cycle if he was going to get much bigger than this. Now he knew why the two guards that had escorted him to the medical ward had given him strange looks.

Red Alert, upon seeing him, shooed them away and told them only to come back when she called for them.

Something cold made contact with his abdominal plating. He started and turned his helm to look at the medic and the scanning tool she had put on him.

“You’re just jumpy today, aren’t you?”

“Well it is the first time I’ve been allowed out of my quarters in a few decacycles. I was beginning to get comfortable in there.”

“Funny, but don’t get too comfortable there. You’ve got… four decacycles left?”

“Three and a half.”

“Soon you’ll be allowed to go back to your office and _sit down_ and _do the maximum amount of work_ that I allow you to.”

Magnus narrowed his optics at the femme, but said nothing more as she turned on a holoscreen. He tried looking at it to see what she was looking at, but other than the bright and pulsing spark of the bitlet, he couldn’t decipher anything through the static.

Red Alert made an uncertain noise that drew his attention back to her.

“What is it?”

“The bitlet…” he watched the medic purse her lipplates. “The bitlet is a lot smaller than I would expect them to be.”

“What does that mean?”

“You and Megazarak are large frametypes so logically I would expect you to have a large bitlet. I wonder…” she rubbed her servo across her mouth before completing her thought. “I wonder if it might have to do with the intake of nutrients or the fact that you don’t have the sire around.”

“My question is, what would I need Megazarak around for?”

She looked at him, almost as if measuring him up, before she tapped the surface of the scanner and continued her exam. “Most bots, mainly smaller ones, can get by with not having the sire around by substituting the building nanites that transfluid contains with daily injections.”

He stared at her incredulously. “That is what you’ve been giving me?”

“Yes! What did you think it was?”

“I… I don’t know. Artificial nutrients or nutrients stripped from mid-grade energon, considering that I purge everything I take in.”

Red Alert sighed. “No, the energon that I’ve given you with extra supplements is what does that. It helps keep your energy reserves at a decently operable level, and also keeps your internals from being cannibalized to feed the sparkling. Transfluid nanites serve a different purpose: they help the sparkling build their frame. A lack of them means a much smaller frame.”

“So if Megazarak were here and we were interfacing-”

“Your sparkling would be much bigger than they are at this point.”

Magnus bit down on his lower lipplate and stared at the ceiling.

“I know that look, sir. Don’t blame yourself. Despite all this, the sparkling is still developing normally and from what I can see there are no visible anomalies. Now,” she turned the holoscreen to face him, “I know by your lack of interest that you can’t see anything on this scan because if you could, you’d be pointing at the sparkling’s arms and claiming you can tell it’s their leg strut. Do you want me to point out what parts of the bitlet you can see on here?”

He didn’t have to think on it for more than a nanoklik. He nodded.

Red pointed to a corner of the screen. “That’s the helm, and where I’m tracing are the antennae.” She moved to another corner. “Got the arm folded in but there’s one of them, and the other is over here,” she gestured to the center of the screen. “And over here we have both of their leg struts.”

Magnus stared hard at the static image, wondering how Red Alert was able to tell limbs and helm apart so easily.

Then some static moved. At the same time, he felt a faint thump against his plating that he had felt a few times before.

“Oh, they kicked!”

Well that certainly explained what it was.

He placed a servo on his side, where the thump had reverberated. “Yes, I can see them now.”

“Good. Then my work for the solar cycle is done, concerning you.” The medic grinned brightly and turned the scanner off, making the holoscreen go dark.

Magnus felt a small pang of loss at the image of his sparkling, however indecipherable it was. He laid his helm back and closed his optics, thinking of the sparkling. The little bitlet squirming and kicking within his frame, putting him through the Pit. But he was happy for it.

Then he thought of Megazarak. And his spark dropped.

“Sir?”

Trust him to forget that medics picked up emotions far too easily. He made a small noise of acknowledgement.

She turned to look at him, concern etched on her faceplates. “Your mood has been changing rapidly.”

“Well, I am carrying.”

“No, I know _that_. I meant that it has been changing much more rapidly than most other carriers. And you are known for being emotionally stable. What is troubling you?”

Magnus in-vented and ex-vented. He replayed his and Megazarak’s last conversation in his processor, and then remembered what he had been told about the need for nanites. How it was affecting his sparkling’s physical stature. “I regret that Megazarak is not here. And I regret that I don’t know much about my familial medical history to assist you in these exams.”

“I don’t think there’s much cause for worry at this point, sir. The sparkling is perfectly healthy besides the smaller size.”

“But what if they weren’t?”

“Then we would need to learn to deal with it in the best manner possible. Out of curiosity… no, I shouldn’t.”

“What shouldn’t you do?”

“You did mention that your carrier and sire weren’t the greatest creators. I’m beginning to wonder if you might be prone to post-emergence depression. Or that you will develop it.”

Magnus curled his servos into fists. “In the instance that I do, please take my sparkling away from me because I will not put it through what I went through.’

Red Alert sighed and sat next to the berth again. “If you develop it, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ll be a terrible carrier. It happens. And your sparkling won’t be taken from you unless you begin to show signs of developing psychosis.”

Magnus looked at her with a confused expression.

“You harbor thoughts of harming your sparkling and begin to act on them.”

“Primus.” Magnus put his servos over his faceplates and sighed. “My carrier and sire at least never attempted that on me. Not that I’m aware of, so far.”

“Sir, I might be going beyond my official boundaries as the lead medic but, is there any way possible that you could still contact your carrier and sire and ask for medical records?”

Magnus shook his helm. “They’ve been offline for many stellar cycles.”

“Oh. That’ll do it then. For how long?”

“Since I was Ultra Major. Possibly before then, as I only heard of their passing from a primary school acquaintance who still lived nearby them.”

“What about the local medical center?”

“Destroyed in a Decepticon airstrike. Only a third of their patient records were salvaged from the carnage, but mine wasn’t among them.” Magnus sighed. “I asked.”

Red Alert put her servo to her lipplates and in-vented and ex-vented. “I’m sorry. It says a lot about your relationship with your creators that you never felt them go offline.”

A corner of the Magnus’s lipplates twitched upward. “I feel slightly guilty that I didn’t, but I suppose that is normal for those that grew up with neglectful creators.”

He felt another servo on the back of his, and looked down to see that the femme had placed a comforting servo there. After a moment, he turned his servo around so their palms met, and she curled his digits into his, saying, “I still don’t know the specifics of what it was that you went through. But you’re going to be fine, sir. I don’t know how much it means to you, but you have my support.”

“It means a lot, Red Alert. Thank you.”

She removed her servo and patted his side. The sparkling kicked a moment later.

“Oh! Looks like he moved around and his legs are on this side.”

“…“he”?”

“...frag.” Red Alert’s optics widened and she seemed to shrink into herself, placing her servos over her faceplates. “Frag, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think to ask if you wanted to know either.”

“No it’s fine, Red Alert. I had wanted to ask if I could know, but I forgot to ask. Now…” Magnus sighed and placed a servo over his abdominal plates.

He. A mech. He and Megazarak were having a little mechling.

Magnus made a sound a bit like a laugh. “Now at least I don’t have to refer to the bitlet as “it”.”

A loud crashing noise drew their attention to the entrance of the room. A small bot laid there, staring at the scene with widened optics before staring at the Autobot Supreme Commander.

Or rather, the servo he held over the swell of his middle.

His spark dropped to his pedes. “Cadet, what is your business being here?” Magnus demanded in his sternest voice, moving his servo away from his abdominal plates.

Instead of answering his commander, the mech leapt to his pedes and darted away down the hall.


	6. Secrets Exposed

_After wringing three consecutive overloads from him using only his digits, Megazarak had hoisted him in his arms and carried him aboard the shuttle._

_Magnus, processor still hazy from the stimulation, awkwardly patted the Decepticon warlord’s faceplates and brought his helm down to kiss him. Megazarak returned the kiss, nipping at the Autobot Commander’s glossa and lipplates._

_“How I wish I could show you your faceplates when you overload,” Megazarak murmured in his audio receptor, sitting the Autobot at the chair in front of the control console for the ship. He peppered kisses on the pale faceplates, stroking Magnus’s antennae. The motion made the Autobot Commander give a soft whine as he squirmed in the seat._

_“Your faceplates slacken,” the Decepticon’s large servos moved from his antennae to cup his helm, “and your optics brighten to a shade of near-white. You arch your backstrut, and your pedes lift up slightly.”_

_Magnus’s chestplates heaved, his optics dazed. He made a soft noise of surprise when Megazarak leaned down and kissed him again._

_“I’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you,” he whispered as he trailed kisses down from the Autobot’s lipplates to his neck cables, nibbling at them again before he made his way over the broad chassis and to Magnus’s pelvic plating._

_His valve was still bared, the lubricants from previous overloads now tacky as he felt the Decepticon move his servo against his valve. Magnus gasped and arched in the chair as the palm met his soaked entrance and the edge of the servo bumped against his anterior node, grinding his hips downward and begging for more stimulation._

_“Primus, you’re_ still _wet for me,” Megazarak purred, smirk crossing his faceplates. Magnus’s pedes curled in, chassis heaving as the other mech leaned in closer and continued. “I wonder, were you thinking of me on the flight over here? When you first opened up for me you were soaked so thoroughly, I would be surprised if you hadn’t-”_

_“Megazarak, I swear to Primus if you don’t shove your digits or something into me I’m going to r-,” Magnus choked on his words as a digit toyed with his anterior node, rubbing around it. “Primus,” he gasped._

_Megazarak chuckled. “Not the designation I wanted to hear, but I suppose that will do.”_

_Suddenly the Decepticon moved out of sight, settling between his spread thighs with his mouthplates to the bared valve._

_Magnus placed a servo on the back of the helm, moaning softly as the larger mech mouthed at the warm, slick folds, working his glossa into his entrance. He felt servos maneuver his legs to drape over Megazarak’s wide shoulders. There was no protest. Magnus could only moan as all of his valve sensors came online to fire, relishing the feeling of the warm and soft glossa working in him._

_A digit pressed at his anterior node, making him shout. His pedes curled again, he ground his hips into the other mech’s faceplates, and his legs tightened around Megazarak’s helm as the Decepticon continued to work him over with his glossa and digits._

_Soon enough he felt the pressure building in his pelvic region, and it coursed through all his frame and then set his spark ablaze. He arched and cried out as he overloaded, Megazarak’s glossa lapping at his valve to lengthen the duration and amplify the intensity._

_Processor hazy, he felt lipplates on his that were tinged with a warm, musky scent and taste. He gently wrapped his arms around Megazarak’s neck and kissed him back with equal fervor._

_He could feel the rattling of the Decepticon’s armor on his frame._

_Pulling back from the kiss, Magnus reached down and stroked the other mech’s very warm interfacing panel, which elicited a soft grunt. “Come on, in me. You need release,” he murmured._

_The panel snicked back, and something very hard emerged into his servo. Magnus stroked it up a down a few times, smiling at the little shakes and groans he managed to wring from the Decepticon’s vocalizer, before he guided the shaft to his valve. Megazarak wasted no time in pushing in immediately, groaning._

_Magnus wrapped his legs around the other mech’s waist, gripping the armrests of the chair as Megazarak thrust in and out with abandon, grunting and groaning until his shout preceded a rush of fluids into his valve. The sensation made him overload yet again, unexpectedly._

_Megazarak seized Magnus’s helm in his servos and kissed him again._

.-.-.

“You are to stand guard until I leave, or until I call for help if I meet physical resistance.”

“My partner has the Cadet restrained in the chair, High Councilor. I doubt he will be much trouble for you.”

“Thank you both for the foresight.” Alpha Trion turned to the mech to his other side that chewed a cy-gar between his dental plates. “You don’t have to come along, Kup Major, I’m perfectly capable of-”

“Nah don’ start with me, Trion, he’s been skippin’ all our mornin’ drills for the past decacycle, and I wanna know what his excuse is for that.” The Councilor saw how Kup ground his dentae on the cy-gar. “Fit to kick him out. He ain’t worth the energon to keep him here if all he’s doin’ is skippin’ and listenin’ in on private convos.”

“Don’t be so harsh on the Cadet,” Alpha Trion sighed and nodded at the femme when she brought him to the door of the interrogation room. Her partner stayed staring straight ahead without blinking his optics.

“I’ll be harsh on ‘em all I want.”

“Let me go first then, if you intend to be so gruff. I’ll get more information out of him before you rip into him.”

Trion wrapped his digits around the old, shaky knob of the interrogation room and twisted it to allow him entrance.

The cadet was in a metal seat centered in the room, cuffs around his wrists and ankle joints. He looked up and stared at Alpha Trion for a moment. Then the fear of Unicron was put into him when he saw Kup next to the High Councilor.

“Oh Kup Major, sir! How are you doing?”

Kup made a noise but Alpha Trion held his servo in front of the Major’s faceplates and gave him a look, effectively silencing him. “Cadet Shotter, you do know why you are in custody?”

“Yeah ‘cause I listened in on the Magnus’s conversation.” A gleeful look came across the young mech’s faceplates and he leaned forward as much as he could in the chair. “I didn’t know Ultra Magnus was seeing someone and I didn’t know he was carrying!” he whispered loudly.

Alpha Trion’s lipplates pulled together tightly in an expression of distaste. “In case you haven’t noticed, Ultra Magnus isn’t very open with his personal life. This information-”

“Who is it?”

Alpha Trion wanted to grab a stack of datapads and drop them on the cadet’s helm. “That is not your business.”

“Aww c’mon-”

“You shut your piehole now Shotter!” Kup shouted, rushing forward and pointing a digit in the mech’s faceplates. Shotter looked afraid. “You’re the one under interrogation, not us, so clamp it!”

The High Councilor crossed his arms over his chassis. “Are you planning on selling this information to a gossip rag?”

“Uh… no?”

“Lyin’ sack of slag you are, Shotter, and always have been. Your nasal ridge twitched! You think I don’t know how to tell?”

“Okay fine! I told some of my friends and they said-”

“Who did you tell?” Alpha Trion cut in, pulling his electromagnetic field into himself so neither mech with him could sense just how panicked he felt. “And _why_ did you feel the need to?”

Shotter shrunk into himself under the barrage of questions. “See this is why I hoped I could outrun the guards.”

“Answer the question. You are trying my patience, and I am known for having an endless supply.” Alpha Trion stepped closer until he was nearly faceplate-to-faceplate with the young mech. “Who did you tell?”

The cadet squirmed. After a moment he surrendered the information. “Cadets Supernova and Ironhull.”

“Frag, you had to tell the one cadet that’s got a bigger mouth than you do. Ironhull of all the bots.” Kup reached over and slapped the cadet upside the helm, and Alpha Trion decided he was justified in letting it slide.

Alpha Trion placed a servo over his optics and sighed. “We are going to have a public relations disaster on our servos.”

“Why don’t you all release it to the public right now then? I was gonna go to a gossip column ‘cause oh Primus, imagine the credits-”

The High Councilor lost his patience. He slammed his servos onto the armrests of the chair, the sound echoing in the room and making even Kup jolt. Shotter looked at him with wide, panicked – no, _frightened_ – optics as Alpha Trion hissed in his faceplates, “You don’t understand the gravity of what you’ve done, do you? Through word of mouth you have told Supernova and Ironhull. They will tell their friends within the Elite Guard Cadet Division and their families if they keep contact. The other cadets will tell their own friends and families, and it will continue to escalate _until_ ,” Alpha Trion moved his servos from the chair and held them clenched into fists at his sides, “it reaches a Decepticon sympathizer or spy. And do you realize what a disadvantage that puts us at?”

“…no? Aren’t we under a ceasefire?”

“We may be under ceasefire but you don’t know what could happen if this information reaches the Decepticons. Most of the enemy tends to look down on reproduction in non-AllSpark methods, seeing it as a weak point. With the Autobot Commander in his current state, they might just break the treaty and try something stupendous with the belief that Ultra Magnus will not be able to act appropriately, which frankly might be the truth. And whatever they do, whatever lives may be lost in such an act,” Alpha Trion shoved a long digit in the cadet’s chassis, “will be because you opened your Primus-forsaken mouth.”

Looking on the verge of crying, the cadet stared at his lap, his servos curled into fists and his lipplates curled inward so he bit down on them.

Alpha Trion composed himself and looked at Kup, who had the cy-gar held between two digits instead of his dental plates and stared at him with wide optics. “Get those other cadets and bring them to me. Whomever else they told, bring them in too.”

“It’s probably already outta our control, Trion. Might’ve told a creator or a friend not in the Guard.”

“So what are you suggesting we do, Kup, because I am entirely out of ideas.”

Kup put the cy-gar back in his mouth and made a springing noise from deep within his chassis before saying, “Sayin’ that Magnus is gonna have to address this to the Guard once and for all. Pit,” he made the springing noise again and shrugged a shoulder, “I didn’ even know he was carryin’ until just now.”

“And what do you suppose he might say?”

“The truth. Isn’ that what we always say should be told?”

“Not when it might endanger Autobots.”

“An’ just _why_ would that happen?”

Alpha Trion stared at Kup. “Just as I told the cadet, Kup Major.”

But he opened a private communication link with Kup. ::I will tell you why exactly, because I trust you to keep secrets. It will have to be when we are alone::

Kup seemed to finally grasp the gravity of the situation, as he inquired no further.

.-.-.

She had miscalculated how much time it would take for the sedative to take effect. It had been some time since she had needed to use one.

When the cadet fled on his pedes, Magnus tried to go after him but she read that his processor was running wildly, which put him at risk for glitching and shutting down, which also wasn’t a good thing for the bitlet.

She had given him a sedative-spiked cube of energon, thinking he could make it back to his berth in time. But he had fallen asleep against her and she had laid him down on the medical berth to sleep the sedative off.

In fetching the sedative from a vault hidden in her office floor, she had seen that the vent that opened up directly in front of the entrance to the medical bay had been opened. Dust along the other side of the hallway from where the two guards had been stationed told her that the cadet that snuck along the vents.

Primus above. Now she needed to worry about the vents that led to her office and directly into the medical ward.

She would need to ask if there could be sensors stationed along that particular route of vents, or if they could be shrunken so even the smallest cadet wouldn’t be able to sneak along them.

Currently she sat next to the berth that the Autobot Supreme Commander lay on, arms held up in front of her with elbow joints bent, and servos held together under her chin. She wondered what she would tell the Commander when he awakened and asked if indeed a cadet had listened in on their talk.

She couldn’t keep giving him sedatives when he became stressed to a point where his sparkling was endangered.

A communication ping came through from Alpha Trion, and she answered it. She spoke first. ::Was the cadet caught, High Councilor?::

::Yes. This situation is far more dire than we expected::

There was a sinking feeling in her tanks. She thinned her lipplates. ::What do you mean by “far more dire”?::

::Before Shotter had fled the scene, he had already informed two of his friends within the Guard that he saw the Supreme Commander visiting a medic and that there was a very real probability that he was carrying. Cadets being young, and frankly as moronic as they are, those two were quick to spread the information to their other friends. We’ve discovered another cadet passed the information onto his carrier. There’s no telling if the others also spread the news to their own families outside of the Guard::

::Has the carrier of that one said anything yet?::

::Not that we can tell. As of now it seems that it is mostly contained within the Guard. Kup has ordered the cadets to not speak until Magnus himself addresses them, and we have tightened security. All cadet communication links, even their private ones, are being monitored to ensure that no one else talks::

Red Alert placed a servo over her forehelm. ::He came in through a vent opening in front of the medical bay::

::He informed us::

::If only I’d-::

::Listen to me Red Alert, it is in the past and we cannot change it however much we want to.:: The High Councilor sighed over the communication link before he composed himself. ::I am going to order you to do something very amoral. You _have_ to delete Megazarak’s designation off of Ultra Magnus’s file::

Spark pulsing hard, the femme cleared her vocalizer before responding. ::Sir, I am not allowed to do such a thing. It violates patient confidentiality laws if I edit something without the patient’s consent, and to do exactly that, I would need a bypass code from the Magnus of Cybertron:: Red Alert looked at the mass of mech on the medical berth. ::And he is currently not in a state to give me consent to remove Megazarak’s designation from the file::

::And in the event that the Magnus of Cybertron is not able to issue such a bypass code, the High Council may do so::

It was quiet for another moment. Red Alert heard the Supreme Commander shift on the berth, but mercifully he didn’t wake.

::The news has been spread. There will be those that will try to access the files of Ultra Magnus. Shotter was intending to sell the information, and if/when the news breaks out to Cybertron as a whole… imagine the reward that will be given to the one who can access his file. Lives will be in danger if the identity of the sire of the sparkling that Magnus currently carries is revealed. You _must_ do this::

Morally dubious, yes. She knew she was cornered with only one way out. She swiveled in the chair and forced it on its wheels over to the nearest holoscreen. After putting in her information to allot her access, she opened the file.

::I’m going to get a copy of the file onto a datapad-::

::Red Alert-::

::No, _you_ listen to me right now, High Councilor. I’m going to get a copy on a datapad I have with me. Only I have access to it because it’s very old and GridNet capabilities were not given to it. I’m going to redact Megazarak’s designation and remove any mention of him. When I finish, I’ll put the copy on my datapad. And when that’s done, I’ll put in a code that corrupts the old file::

::What will that do?::

::Files can be retrieved for at maximum two decacycles after deleting. If someone gets into the GridNet with the Elite Guard and manages to fetch the file even after it’s been deleted, they could look at the revision history. However,:: she did a search for all mentions of the name “Megazarak” and replaced them with “[REDACTED]”, ::corrupting the file ensures that they won’t even be able to open it. Or edit its code to remove the corrupted one.::

There was quiet from Alpha Trion’s end of the communication link. Then a chuckle. ::Did they teach you this when you went to medical school?::

The femme laughed as she connected the datapad with the small information server that was hidden in the floor, preparing to do a transfer. ::No. I was taught this when I came to serve with the Elite Guard. I never thought it would have to use it, but here I am now.::

::Indeed. You are an excellent medic, Red Alert. Very attentive to your patients. I’m only sorry you had to be dragged into this mess.::

::Hmm. It’s a fun mess at least. Getting to see a sparkling out of it. Those haven’t been around for a long time, High Councilor::

::Yes, I suppose that is true::

Red Alert noted the slight tension in his voice, but before she could ask, he bade her a good day and cut off the communication link.

.-.-.

“Because you asked: the truth is that the sparkling that Ultra Magnus is carrying is the product of a five-stellar-cycle long affair. With Megazarak.”

“Pit. Pit, pit, _pit_ , what the frag was Magnus thinkin’?! Our Magnus and their fraggin’ leader.”

“I don’t know his thought process during that time, or this time, any more than you do. He is undoubtedly one of the better and more capable Magni that we have had in power. However, when he – excuse the language – frags up, he frags up magnificently.”

“So the sparklin’, ‘s not yours, then?”

“No. If it were, we would not be grasping at thin tubes and trying to keep this as contained as we are now.”

“Primus, I’m sorry about that.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for. I never told him of my sentiments.”

“Ah, Pit. I thought he’d let you down gently an’ you just didn’ say anythin’. Are you still thinkin’ of tellin’ him at some point?”

“What good would that do? He has his servos full dealing with the fallout of the Cadet’s prying audio receptors. That is stressing him quite enough. I’m not going to stress him out further just to take a heavy weight off my shoulder struts.”

“He’s always stressed ya ol’ sack of bolts. No wonder you waited this long. You’ve been holdin’ it for… what, millions of stellar cycles? ‘s probably close to the weight he carries.”

“I would rather not add to it unless necessary, which it is not. And yes. Primus, I regret that I did wait too long to say anything.”

“Hmph. Understatement of the solar cycle righ’ there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just taking this time to note that I'm very happy with the reception that this little fic has received thus yet. I didn't expect it to get more than 50 kudos and a couple of comments since it's a crackship to the max, so I'm actually very surprised to see the current stats on it. I really appreciate all the comments that are left and the messages I've received on Tumblr that have been telling me that they look forward to each update.
> 
> And I won't lie, seeing people get into the idea of a carrier-Magnus, which I've been into for years and have seen very little of, makes my heart soar.
> 
> -AndromedaPrime


	7. Course of Action

I need you.

-Megazarak-

_Magnus read the message again, sighed, and shunted the message away in his ‘read’ folder. It was the fourth one of the solar cycle, and while the Decepticon’s neediness of him was a little endearing, he had work to get done._

_There was a ping on his private communication channel not more than five kliks later._

_::I can tell that you’re reading these messages::_

_::Yes, I have read them, Megazarak. But I told you that I’m busy::_

_::I know, but I need you. Need to hear your voice::_

_Faceplates breaking into a smile, Magnus lifted his helm from his work and looked at the entrance to his office, making sure that it was locked shut so no one would be able to walk in unannounced. He leaned back in his seat. ::And I needed to hear yours as well::_

_::Did you ever consider becoming a singer? They have to still have them on Cybertron::_

_::I’m unable to carry a tune for long, and frankly I have no idea why others find my voice so pleasing. I am mostly tone-deaf::_

_::Oh, pity. You would be a wonderful singer. I’d listen to your voice croon and soothe me into my dreams each, and every, night::_

_::Megazarak, you do that even now::_

_::Because you indulge me, my love. Will you indulge me now?::_

_::Fine. What do you want? For me to talk on a certain subject?::_

_::No. I was thinking something that requires both servos. Or one, depending on how you get off::_

_He was thoroughly confused. Blinking his optics at no one in particular, the Magnus of Cybertron gathered his thoughts before asking, ::What do you mean by how I “get off”?::_

_::Oh Primus. I forgot that it’s you:: Megazarak chuckled over the communication link. ::I meant… now I’m embarrassed to say it::_

_::Say it::_

_::Primus, you really can get anyone to do your bidding with that tone. Comm link interface. Have you heard of it before?::_

_To say yes would be to acknowledge that he had indeed read of it via some extremely poorly written fantasy novellas. He closed his optics and shook his helm, despite the fact that no one else could see his denial. He in-vented, paused, then ex-vented. ::No::_

_::Are you alone?::_

_::Yes::_

_::And your office door locked?::_

_::I know it was, but now that you have asked, I’ll have to go check it:: Magnus said as he got off his seat and checked the lock to his office. Indeed, it was locked. ::Yes::_

_::Good. Since you know what I mean by-::_

_::I told you I don’t::_

_Megazarak laughed over the channel. ::I know when you’re lying. You in-vent, pause, then ex-vent when you’re lying. You in-vent and ex-vent in rapid succession when you’re being truthful::_

_Mortified that he’d be caught in the act, Magnus held a servo over his optics and did his best to stifle a laugh. ::Primus above, you’re impossible::_

_::Settle down:: Megzarak replied with a hint of a grin in his voice. ::Lay back::_

_Magnus sat back down in his seat and closed his optics again, holding a breath as he placed his servos onto his lap._

_::You know how much I love seeing you coming undone:: the Decepticon’s voice purred, sending a pleasant shiver through the Autobot’s frame. ::I wish I could be there with you now, working you over with my own digits::_

_He could feel himself beginning to heat up as he leaned back in the seat and parted his legs a minute fraction._

_::I wish I were there to grab your wrists and hold them over your helm. I’d kiss your faceplates, they’re the most beautiful thing I get to see. I’d then move to your neck cables-::_

_Finding himself tilting his helm backwards and arching his hips a little, Magnus emitted a small, soft moan._

_::-and my digits would travel down the rest of your frame, toying with the vent openings on your chassis and stroking your sides. When I reach your panel, I order you to open it::_

_Opening his interface panel, Magnus pressed the back of his helm further into the helm rest, gasping softly as he rubbed his digits around the rim of his valve. He parted his legs further, sinking into the seat._

_::What else would you do?::_

_:: I’d press my mouth against the vents of your chassis and suck, watch you twitch and listen to you gasp. Meanwhile my digits would stroke the folds of your valve, feeling them get drenched in your lubricant. Then I’d plunge my digits in-::_

_Magnus gasped aloud as he sunk two digits into his valve, forcing them to the last joint. His calipers fluttered around the strange intrusion, gripping his digits as he retracted them before plunging them back in again._

_::-after a while I have to release my spike, and I waste no time in connecting with you. Your calipers cling to my spike as I thrust in and out. I’m so close to overload-::_

_Digits thrusting in and out, Magnus cried out from the stimulation as he used his free servo to rub at his anterior node._

_::-but I have to hold on, I have to watch you come undone first::_

_A short laugh escaped his vocalizer. ::It is not a contest Megazarak::_

_::Perhaps not.:: The Supreme Commander noted through the haziness of arousal that the Decepticon leader seemed slightly distracted, and imagined the large mech stroking his own spike on the other end. ::But I do enjoy seeing your faceplates when you overload. Pity I can’t be there right now, but I have memories to go off of. Overload::_

_The last word was said in that tone that Megazarak knew could make Ultra Magnus soft in his arms. Arching in his seat, Magnus moved the servo over his node away and thrust his digits into his valve as he overloaded, crying out as lubricant coated his digits and servo, spilling onto the seat._

_He heard a grunt from the other side of the communication link, followed by a sated sigh._

_Frame relaxing, Magnus stared at the ceiling with a dazed grin on his faceplates and gave a soft laugh. ::May I get back to my work now, you clingy sparkling?::_

_::I believe I’ll be able to handle a night cycle without the sound of your voice. I’ll have a small gift for you the next time we get to meet... actually, it won’t be small::_

_There was a hint of mischief in the Decepticon’s voice. Magnus only rolled his optics, but kept the pleased grin on his faceplates. ::Have a pleasant recharge::_

_::I shall, for it'll be filled with dreams of you around my spike::_

_Heat rose into the Commander’s faceplates as he sputtered ::Good NIGHT::_

_Magnus cut off the communication link and stared at the mess he’d made of his seat and… Primus, it got on the floor too._

_If Megazarak were here, he would have made the big lug clean the mess up himself._

.-.-.

He stirred awake, slowly opening his optics against the harsh light that beamed down on him. Strange, he didn’t remember the lights of his berthroom being of such an intensity.

Then he realized that he didn’t recall ever leaving the medical ward.

He opened his optics and squinted them, sluggishly pulling a servo up to block some of the harsh medical bay light. Slowly, he sat up and covered his optics with both of his servos.

Whispered, hushed voices came from somewhere outside the open doorway.

“-doesn’t know the extent that the news spread.”

“Well now he has to know.”

“Please, just… just break it to him gently. The more stressed he gets, the more the sparkling-”

“Red Alert, Ultra Magnus is going to be stressed out whether I break the news to him gently or not so gently. Believe me, I am taking his sparkling’s health into consideration, but the bottom line is that there is no circumventing this issue.”

 _Break what news?_ he wondered to himself. Then he remembered the crashing noise, the pair of young and wide optics staring at him, the sound of pedes darting away.

He gripped the edge of the berth to keep his servos from shaking.

“-knew this was going to happen at some point. Even if we had kept him locked up for the entire duration of his carrying cycle, there would be those wondering if he was even alive. And how could we explain away the existence of a sparkling that he chose to keep?”

“No no, I understand that. I’m only thinking of what he could say.”

“If you have any ideas, relay them to me because the High Council is tied on this issue.”

The metal of the berth creaked loudly under his grip as it warped, and the voices stopped. He stayed staring at his lap, but out of the corner of his optics he saw a dark shadow grow closer toward the entrance of the room. From the height of the figure, he could tell it was Red Alert.

“Glad to see that you’re up, sir.”

“Your tone of voice says otherwise.”

She said nothing more as she was joined by another bot. Magnus sighed and turned his helm. He nodded at the mech and moved so he sat with his spinal strut straightened, his servos coming to rest at his sides. “Alpha Trion. What brings you here?”

The Senior High Councilor only blinked and made a noise before turning back to Red Alert. “His condition most definitely can’t be hidden. Not anymore.”

“That is not my fault,” Magnus found himself retorting, moving his servos again so they shielded his middle from view.

“No but it is your fault that-”

“High Councilor,” Red Alert cut in before the elder mech could say something he’d regret, for which Magnus was grateful for. “You came here to give some information to Ultra Magnus. I suggest you tell it now, because I have more scans to run and not much time.”

Magnus braced himself for the worst, telling his spark to cease its distressed pulsing and finding that it wasn’t working. He watched the Councilor nod at the medic before turning to face him. “The cadet that fell through the vent opening was caught and taken into interrogation. There I learned that he had spread the news to two of his fellow cadets, and those two wasted no time in relaying what Cadet Shotter had told them.”

He felt like he was going to purge violently. Closing his optics and curling his servos into fists, he slowly responded, “Where are they?”

“Cadet Shotter will be facing strict disciplinary action and possible expulsion from the Elite Guard. The cadets that spread the information among the ranks may face some disciplinary action. It is still being decided by Kup. For now communication between all cadets and their families is under surveillance for the time being until a final decision is made concerning this.”

“Concerning what, exactly?”

“Concerning how this matter will be dealt with. You know you have to tell them now, Supreme Commander. And this must be addressed in a manner that will deal the least amount of damage to the Autobot Commonwealth.”

Magnus opened his optics and frowned. “I am aware of that, Senior Councilor.”

Alpha Trion crossed his arms over his chassis and stared harshly at the blue-armored mech. “I simply thought that I might remind you of what you were elected for, as you seem to have forgotten that as of recent.”

“Sir-” Red Alert started.

Magnus appreciated that Red Alert was trying to defuse the situation, but he still found himself bristling at the comment. He replied heatedly, “What exactly are you insinuating, Alpha Trion?”

“I’m insinuating that you’ve forgotten that you were elected for the purpose of leading and being an example. And one of the duties of the office of Magnus, is placing the common interest of the Autobots above oneself.”

“Which I have done by negotiating a ceasefire treaty with the Decepticons, and we were in the process of trying for a peace treaty before this happened.”

“And the reason that _this_ happened because in an act of selfishness and lust, you put yourself over the interests of the commonwealth.”

“Alpha Trion!” Red Alert looked mildly horrified. Magnus said nothing, but intensified his glare at the High Councilmech. His spark sank into his pedes.

The sparkling fluttered, then went still.

“ _No_ , Red Alert. I know what I’m saying and I can say it with a clear spark and processor. As the one who had the final say in his appointment to the office of Magnus of Cybertron, knowing that he consorted with our sworn enemy...”

Magnus noted the High Councilor’s servos curling into fists.

“In short, Supreme Commander,” Alpha Trion shook his helm and glowered at the blue-armored mech, “you have not been fulfilling your duties as leader of the Autobots for a long while.”

“Sir,” Red Alert finally cut in, putting herself between the Senior High Councilor and the Supreme Commander, “you have to leave now.”

“Gladly.”

Magnus was arguably the gladder one as he watched the High Councilor’s backplates retreating from his view.

There was a long period of tense quiet in the room as Red Alert took readings of his and the sparkling’s spark pulses. A loud noise, similar to one clearing their vocalizer, caught his attention. He ex-vented, unaware that he’d been holding his breath. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, sir. If I knew he would have said all of that to you I wouldn’t have let him in.”

“He is correct, however much it hurt to hear it. I haven’t set the best example for the Elite Guard, and for the Autobots living in the Commonwealth.”

Red Alert sighed, prompting him to look directly at the medic as she asked, “So what are you going to say?”

“The truth. That I am carrying.”

“What about if you are asked the identity of the sire?”

He went quiet for a moment before admitting, “That is where I don’t know what to say.”

“Then you’ll have to go talk to Alpha Trion and the rest of the High Council. Also Kup Major.”

“I had forgotten to ask, but does Kup know the full details of this situation?”

“Alpha Trion said that he told him everything.” She suddenly brought out a needle and before Magnus could squirm away she slipped it under his shoulder plating and stuck it into his protoform, and he immediately felt the cold rush into his frame that he’d become familiar with. “But you know Kup well. He can be trusted.”

“Yes. But the mere fact that this got out…”

“It was going to happen at some point. Alpha Trion and I had a little debate before we noticed you were awake. I don’t know if you heard it.”

“I caught a small part of it.”

Red Alert removed the needle. “If we had kept you hidden from the prying optics of Cybertron we could have tried to pass the sparkling off as being an adoption. Of course, there is the issue of whether the sparkling will come out looking exactly as you or… I hope to Primus not, but if the sparkling would come out looking like Megazarak.”

“Then I have a little-known secret that must not get out.”

He noted how the medic’s optics widened a minute fraction, almost as if to ask him _‘Another secret?’_

Shoving a digit between armor plates and rubbing at the injection spot, Magnus continued, “Megazarak has had his frame altered significantly over many stellar cycles, so he does not bear much resemblance to what he used to look like as a youngling. And going off of what I read in the datapad files,” he moved his digit away, “if the sparkling were to look like Megazarak… no one would recognize it, save for myself.”

He noted the small smile that the medic gave him. “You know what he looked like?”

Nodding, he replied, “He showed me the few photo captures he had.”

“I’m curious. What did he look like?”

“He was a bright shade of red. I’m only willing to divulge that.”

“Fair enough.”

“Though I don’t know if I might have passed over this while reading but one thing that does concern me is the color of the optics… if the sparkling is born with red optics-”

“That’s extremely unlikely. In almost all cases sparklings are born bearing the optic color of their carrier. There have been those rare cases where the sparkling was born bearing one optic the color of their carrier’s, and the other the color of their sire, but the chances of that happening are extremely low.”

“What if that rare case happens to me?”

The medic sighed and crossed her arms over her chassis, staring at the floor before looking back up to meet the Supreme Commander’s optics. “There’s a surgical procedure that can be done to change the color of the optics. However, I wouldn’t be able to do such a thing. It’s _extremely_ invasive and far beyond my specialty.”

“And if I elected that procedure for my sparkling, yet another bot would know the truth behind his parentage.”

“Exactly. There’s one other option, though. There are some filters that can be attached to the sparkling’s optics that will give them the appearance of whatever color the filter is. I would still need to perform it as if it were surgery, but only because I would need to make sure they were properly installed. That is something I can do, if that is the instance.”

“I would rather that be the course of action. Would it be apparent that he would be wearing these filters, however?”

“Much like the beginning stages of your carrying cycle, it would only be noticeable if the onlooker knew what to look for.”

Magnus felt a small weight lift from his shoulder struts. He nodded and got up from the berth. “I’ll have to go speak to the High Council then. If I wait too long to address the Elite Guard, it will make this already tense situation even worse.”

Red Alert nodded and waved him through the entrance.


	8. Hiding

_His legs dropped back onto the berth with a loud clanking noise, and his optics were wide as they stared up at the ceiling of the shuttle. He caught his breath, laughed, and lifted his helm, blue optics meeting the red ones that peered at him from between his thighs._

_“Enjoyable?” Megazarak rumbled, looking all too pleased with himself._

_Ultra Magnus vented another laugh, trying to regain a sense of composure. “Very enjoyable. How did you learn all of this?”_

_He twitched when Megazarak kissed his right thigh before moving himself up so he loomed over his frame. “I’ve had eons of practice.”_

_A small twinge of jealousy seized Magnus’s spark at the thought of the Decepticon having had others in berth, but he quickly quashed it._

_Megazarak was his, and he was Megazarak’s._

_Besides, it was only fair. He’d told the Decepticon about his (admittedly) few trysts when he was a cadet in the Elite Guard, and he himself had taken a bit too much pleasure in the envious look in the Decepticon’s optics._

_Instead, Magnus smirked and reached up, pulling Megazarak’s helm in and stroking the armor that protected his helm. “I wish those eons of practice you crow about had been with me.”_

_“Oh I wish so too. Though I will say, watching you get jealous over my previous lovers and trysts gives me great pleasure.”_

_Magnus frowned and lightly shoved the Decepticon on his shoulder strut._

_Megazarak chuckled and laid to Magnus’s side, stretching out and wrapping his arms around the Autobot Supreme Commander. Spark blooming, Magnus curled into the warm embrace and smiled into the larger mech’s chassis. It felt good to be the one being held, for once._

_Both mechs laid in silence for a while, listening to the sound of their systems running, each other’s life forces pulsing. Reminding each other that they weren’t alone, that they had each other despite the factional differences._

_A servo reached down, gently taking hold of his as they twined their digits together._

_“Do you call for me because you’re lonely or because you genuinely enjoy my presence?”_

_Magnus watched the Decepticon’s reaction to his question, as the larger mech sighed and shifted them both so they met each other’s optics again. A digit caressed his faceplates as a low voice responded in kind, “Both. I enjoy your presence greatly. And I will admit that it does get very isolating, being the one shining example of Decepticon strength.”_

_“And their leader as well,” Magnus said, tracing little circles on the Decepticon’s shoulder armor. He sighed. “It is the same with me. I cannot form many deep friendships, or carry on relationships, without my title intruding.”_

_“Hmm, so I assume your Autobots are also intimidated by the power that comes with your position?”_

_“Not only that. There are rules concerning what a Magnus may and may not do. One of them is that a Magnus cannot fraternize with any of his subordinates.”_

_“Oh?” That piqued Megazarak’s interest, as he smirked at Magnus. “And what does it say about fraternizing with the enemy?”_

_Magnus gave the Decepticon a flat look. “You are not the enemy. In your manner of acting, at least.”_

_Humming, Megazarak buried his faceplates in Magnus’s neck cables. “I know a few million Autobots that would happily argue the opposite.”_

_It was true, Magnus wouldn’t deny such a thing. He sighed heavily and curled a servo around the larger mech’s helm. “I know. I would rather not continue this conversation. At least, not now.”_

_He felt a minute nod into his neck before Megazarak drew back and stroked his cheekplates._

_“Tell me about your time as a youngling.”_

_Magnus gave the Decepticon a look. He narrowed his optics and nodded at him. “You first, since you asked for a fifth time.”_

_The smile that Megazarak gave him was a little too disconcerting. “As you wish. I was forged cold and immediately sent to the mines, destined to work there until I offlined. But as we can see, that was not the case. And here I am. That is all there is to me.”_

_The Autobot scowled as Megazarak nodded in his direction, a motion for him to start._

_“To answer your old question, yes. I was born of two other Cybertronians. My carrier’s name was Axel, my sire’s name was Noctum.”_

_“Did they ever give you a reason for your designation?”_

_“No, and sometimes I still wonder why simply “Ultra”. But I have grown used to it over the stellar cycles, so I feel no inclination to change it. My creators no longer function. I entered the Elite Guard, rose through the ranks, and here you have the Magnus of Cybertron before you.”_

_He felt the Decepticon’s gaze on him._

_“I know you’re holding back some things, Ultra.”_

_The Magnus of Cybertron sighed in defeat._

_“I was one of the youngest Elite Guard cadets at that time. The reason for that is because I left my creators and ran into the arms of what I considered to be stability and security, things that I had sorely lacked during my lifecycle.”_

_“And did you find it?”_

_Magnus thought of the consistent roll calls and exercises and classes of his youth, when he was a mere adolescent on the cusp of being fully mature. He smiled at the memory, nodding. “I did.”_

_“And did your creators ever protest your joining of the Guard?”_

_“I never heard of them after I left.”_

_Most other Cybertronians that had been born, instead of forged cold, would have looked at him with pity and told him that they could never do such a thing to their own creators. Megazarak was one of very few other bots that didn’t give him a guilt trip. Instead the mech looked at him with some curiosity._

_Magnus continued, “My creators didn’t reach out to me, even to find out where I was and to ensure that I was still functioning. Many stellar cycles later I heard that they passed onto the Well.”_

_“My apologies.”_

_“There are none needed. Contrary to the myths spread,” Magnus pondered his next words and laughed quietly, “it is indeed possible to not be able to form a bond with your creators, and in their case it is entirely possible to fail to form a bond with their creation.”_

_“I’ve heard that when a creator dies, the creation feels it, and I’ve heard the opposite. Is it true?”_

_“I wouldn’t know, honestly. But I never felt anything that would indicate my creators passing away. If I hadn’t been told, I would probably believe that they were still online.”_

_“If that were the case, would you have sought them out?”_

_“No. They gave me no support. So I wouldn’t have cared.”_

_“You wouldn’t have sought them out, even to wave your accomplishments in their faceplates?”_

_Magnus gave the Decepticon a look. “What would be the point of that? When I was young I had already accepted that they didn’t want me in their lives, and I decided I didn’t want to be in theirs. Parading my accomplishments in front of them, even if they had been alive by the time I became the Magnus of Cybertron, would have achieved nothing.”_

_Chuckling, Megazarak reached out and stroked one of Magnus’s helm antennae. “Yet another aspect where you and I differ. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t have let my inattentive creators hear the end of it.’_

_“Yes, but by that logic they wouldn’t be able to care about what I achieved on my own.”_

_“Well, that is a point I’ll have to concede to you.”_

_One side of his lipplates twitched upward in a half-smile, and he buried his faceplates in the other mech’s chestplates again, sighing. “Thank you.”_

_There was a note of genuine confusion in Megazarak’s tone as he asked, “For what?”_

_Magnus moved his helm so one of his optics could meet the Decepticon’s gaze. “Thank you for not invalidating my emotions towards my creators.”_

.-.-.

The sparkling decided it was the perfect time to stretch his legs in the middle of Magnus’s walk to the High Council Chambers.

Though this was hardly the first time he’d felt the flutter and soft thumps of the bitlet moving inside, the motions made him stop in his tracks. He stared at nothing in particular, processors focusing on the movements of his sparkling.

It had finally registered in his processor that this was real. That this was no dream procession which he would wake up from to find there was no sparkling or no Megazarak.

Placing a servo over the soft curve of his belly, Magnus sighed and continued his walk.

The halls were unusually quiet, and empty. He found it a little bit disconcerting.

When he reached the chambers and entered, he found the four High Councilors gathered in a small group, murmuring amongst themselves. At the sound of the door opening, they all turned to face him.

He noted how Botanica, Highbrow, and Perceptor stared a little further south, where his servo lay. Though he felt self-conscious about the looks, he kept his servo where it was.

Thankfully Alpha Trion seemed to be avoiding looking anywhere below his face.

“Ah! You’re showing!”

Magnus glared at Highbrow. “Thank you for pointing that out. I had no idea.”

“There is no need for the sarcasm, Supreme Commander,” Perceptor quietly chastised Magnus, but the mech paid him no mind as he looked directly at the eldest mech in the room.

Alpha Trion met his gaze.

“I have called this Council together this instance to address the issue of my carriage. Thanks to our Senior High Councilor,” Magnus nodded at Alpha Trion, “I know that the news has reached the rest of the Elite Guard, and has reached some individuals even out of the Guard.” He ex-vented heavily. “I’ve come to the conclusion that it is best to address the Elite Guard as soon as possible.”

“When would you wish to do that?” Botanica asked, optics looking warily at him.

Magnus in-vented and ex-vented. “Before this solar cycle ends, preferably. The longer I wait, the more adversely the image of the Elite Guard will be affected.”

“It has already been affected enough,” Perceptor droned.

“Precisely,” Highbrow agreed with a nod of his helm. “What is going to happen if this reaches the Decepticons?”

“We must do what we can to ensure that that does not happen,” Alpha Trion said after staying quiet. He looked back and met Ultra Magnus’s gaze. “Born sparklings in Autobot culture are seen as being assets, whereas in Decepticon culture it means that the carrier is vulnerable. And given that our Magnus is carrying-”

“They would interpret that fact as the entire Elite Guard, and the entirety of the Autobot army, being at its weakest point.” Magnus nodded and sighed heavily, moving his servo from his swelled middle. “I know. I know that well. But I know Megazarak even better. He would not-”

“This is not for Megazarak to know, Ultra Magnus.”

That startled him. “I don’t understand. He is the sire, and he needs to know that I’m carrying.”

“We are worried more for the conditions amongst the Decepticons about at this point, and how they might change if this news were to reach…”

Highbrow trailed off, but there was something in his tone of voice that set Magnus on edge and put something akin to uneasiness in his spark. A silence fell over the Council chambers, so tense that even the sparkling ceased his movements, as if afraid to do so.

Magnus blinked his optics and took a step closer to the Cybetronian Head of Intelligence.

Highbrow seemed to wither under the intense gaze.

“You all are hiding something from me. Aren’t you?”

Their bated silence confirmed his suspicions. Magnus looked away from Highbrow to Perceptor, who refused to meet his gaze, and then to Botanica, who bit down on her lipplates. Then he transferred his gaze back to Alpha Trion, who in-vented and pulled himself up to his full height.

“What are you hiding from me?”

Alpha Trion, after a moment of meeting his intensely blue optics, nodded at Botanica. “Tell him. You can summarize it far better than Highbrow can.”

“Sir, I don’t…” a look of worry came over the femme’s faceplates. She gestured to Magnus. “The sparkling-”

“I need to know what is going on, Botanica,” Magnus said as gently as he could, despite the fact that he had a sinking feeling in his spark. He placed his servo back on his abdominal plates as the sparkling resumed kicking, obviously discomfited with the situation. “What is it?”

Botanica pursed her lipplates before she surrendered. “A few solar cycles ago, Highbrow received intel that there were some tensions within the ranks of the Decepticons. We had been fielding communication attempts from Megazarak since we began to keep tabs on your communication links, but he went quiet about two decacycles ago.”

“What do you mean by “went quiet”?”

“He hasn’t attempted contact in two decacycles.”

Magnus stared at the femme and slowly in-vented, then ex-vented, his spark pulsing rapidly. “Is Megazarak in danger?”

“No, not that we can tell,” she shook her helm. “He’s been seen by our intel providers on New Kaon and passing through Armada, so we know he’s alive. But the last time he was seen it was reported that he was not followed by his usual company of mechs and femmes.”

That piece of news soothed the Magnus’s spark a little bit. “Any updates that come through about Megazarak, I want to know immediately. If I am not able to speak to him, then I have to know what I can about him.”

Botanica nodded and then nudged Highbrow, who started and then nodded in assent.

“I’m aware that I will need to make a draft of what I will tell the Elite Guard concerning my carrying cycle. I’ve called this Council together so we may be on the same wavelength.”

“Keep it short and to the point,” Botanica offered.

“That will be done. Now my question is, do you believe it is best for me to simply leave out any reference to the sire of the sparkling?”

“I believe so,” Alpha Trion said quietly. “If too many questions arise, or Primus forbid someone is caught trying to get into your files, we will have to figure our way from there.’

“I have a concern,” Perceptor interjected. “What will happen in the instance that the sparkling is born bearing a resemblance to Megazarak? We know that it will be a very rare chance that the sparkling has a red optic, but what do we say if we have a miniature Megazarak running around the base?”

Magnus sighed. “I told Red Alert already, and I will tell you all as well. The Megazarak we know now did not always look like he currently does.” Upon feeling the curious looks on him, he explained further, “He underwent multiple operations to look the way he does now, so he bears no resemblance to the frame he was originally forged with.”

“Then what if the sparkling bears all the resemblance to his original frame?” Highbrow asked.

“That is when I say that my son resembles my previous frame.”

“You have also had cosmetic operations?” Perceptor inquired with an arched optical ridge.

“I have not. The frame I have now is the frame that I was born with. But I did not have my first photo capture taken until I was promoted to the rank of Officer in the Elite Guard. My creators no longer function, nor does anyone who knew me as a sparkling or youngling, so it will be easy for me to claim that I changed my physical appearance before I came into the Guard as a cadet.”

“Then we have that issue settled.” Botanica crossed her arms over her chassis. “I only hope it’ll be enough to get the general populace off your case. That, and that the excitement over a sparkling will distract them. After all, it has been some time since one was born.”

Magnus nodded. “I hope so as well, Councilor. I have to stress the fact that it is detrimental to the Autobots if this reaches the Decepticons, and hope that they take this to spark.”

“And if not I’m sure their commanding officers will have no problem drilling it into them,” Highbrow said with a cheerful tune. He clapped his servos together. “Now, we must get to work drafting your message.”

“Were you thinking of calling them to the training field and addressing them there, sir?” Botanica asked, tilting her helm at him. “Or did you want to send it out as a memo?”

Weighing the options in his processor, Magnus made a decision. “The training field. Alpha Trion, as I know Kup will give you less attitude,” he nodded at the High Councilor, “let him know that I intend to address the entirety of the Elite Guard before the solar cycle is over.”

Alpha Trion nodded once. “Yes, Ultra Magnus.”


	9. Brewing


    TRANSCRIPT OF ADDRESS
    
    
    
    
    
    GIVEN BY ULTRA MAGNUS, SUPREME COMMANDER, TO THE ELITE GUARD
    
    
    
    
    
    Cadets and other ranked officers of the Elite Guard:
    
    
    
    
    
    It has come to my attention that as of early this solar cycle, rumors have been spread amongst the ranks concerning a very personal and very private matter of mine. I have gathered you all here to inform the Guard about the facts.
    
    
    
    
    
    For those that are wondering if the rumors are true and cannot confirm by sight, the truth is a yes. I am approximately ten decacycles into the midst of a carrying cycle. And to address another question that was raised, I did this of my own volition. I must stress that this carrying cycle was not forced on me.
    
    
    
    
    
    As a result of this development, I will have to take a short leave of my duties within seven to ten decacycles to prepare for the arrival of my sparkling.
    
    
    
    
    
    In the meantime, I will continue to perform my duties as Magnus that are required of me, and that are safe for me to do in my current condition. When I take my leave, the High Council will split my work amongst themselves so the Elite Guard, and Cybertron, will still run smoothly.
    
    
    
    
    
    However, I must address another concern that has been voiced among the higher ranks of the Elite Guard and the Autobot Army:
    
    
    
    
    
    I am aware that the arrival of a sparkling is highly regarded amongst the Autobots. Many of you shared the news amongst compatriots, and some shared the news with their familial units outside of the Elite Guard. While I am flattered that you all are excited at the news, I must ask that this information no longer be spread outside of the Elite Guard.
    
    
    
    
    
    While we Autobots tend to look forward to a sparkling, the Decepticon culture views sparklings born from one’s frame, in lieu of being cold-forged, as a sign of an inherent weakness. In the instance that this news reaches our Decepticon foes, they may believe that Autobots have become complacent, that we have let our guard down.
    
    
    
    
    
    I fear that the Decepticons will believe my current condition means I will not be able to perform in my duties as Magnus. I will admit that I had not taken these facts into consideration when I decided to carry. It is possible they might attempt to break the terms of our ceasefire.
    
    
    
    
    
    In short, I have to stress to you all that letting this information leak outside of the Elite Guard would endanger the security of all Autobots stationed here and on other planets located throughout the Commonwealth. Officers have been dispatched to inform civilians that were privy to this information, and they will be ordered to keep their silence as this concerns a matter of planetary security.
    
    
    
    
    
    From here forth, all ingoing and outgoing methods of communication will be monitored to ensure that this information does not fall into the servos of the Decepticons.
    
    
    
    
    
    It is imperative that we keep this under the strictest confidentiality.

.-.-.

The star of this particular system finally set over the horizon, bathing the world in chilly darkness while the other stars twinkled above him.

He took advantage of the cover of night to transform and flee the darkened planet.

He had fled with the hope that his spark cloaking device would work. Given that he had been on the run for the past few decacycles without anyone having caught him yet, or any sign that he was being chased, it seemed to be working very well.

His plating grew hot as he soared through the atmospheric layers of the planet, flying upward, daring gravity to try and bring him back down.

The heat that licked him suddenly ceased, and his armor grew cold as he broke free of the planet’s gravity and atmosphere, and he found himself free.

A ping registered on his radar, telling him that the next celestial body he could hop to was a short flight away. He didn’t care for the specifics, only caring that it was in the outskirts of the Decepticon empire, and also completely devoid of life. It would be less likely that his troops (they were still _his_ troops despite what the little fragger said) would have bots spying on him, passing information on as to his whereabouts.

He should have known something was brewing when Lugnut had to be nudged for him to crow about how great and glorious of a leader he was. Such a fickle thing, loyalty was.

The closer he got to the little planet, the more he felt that he recognized it. Regardless, it was far from the more populated planets of the empire, void of life, and that was what he cared about.

The stars continued to shine, and he knew that if he took a moment to orient himself in this little patch of space and time, he would be able to find the star that Cybertron revolved around. By doing so, he would also be looking at Ultra.

His spark brightened at the thought of Ultra, and of the time spent together. He had gone into recharge thinking of the Autobot Commander, replaying their conversations over and over in his mind until he could construct sentences and hear Ultra say them. Ultra had a beautiful and bright spark, a sharp processor, and it certainly didn’t help that he was the most striking mech or femme that he had ever laid optics on. The gentle faceplates, the serious optics, the overall frame…

Then it sunk when he remembered how Ultra had been ignoring his call requests for the past couple of decacycles. The ignoring had gone on for much longer than he had been running from his own army.

There was not even a response to his last message. Even if Ultra had told him in a short, clipped reply that they could no longer, or that he no longer wanted to continue their relationship, it would have hurt much less than the static and silence he found himself greeted with. The cold silence was too loud and too much.

He would have been lying to himself if he said he didn’t love the Autobot.

But if a cessation of their affair was what Ultra wanted, he would give him that. Megazarak just wanted to hear it for himself. He couldn’t read processors, and certainly not ones that were solar systems away.

Landing on the planet and looking around, he found himself bathed in multi-colored glow.

Casting a glance upwards, Megazarak couldn’t help but smile at the dim light directly above him. All these stellar cycles later, and one could still see the remnants of the dead star.

Perhaps it was a sign of their relationship. Its fading light meant they had run their course.

But he wouldn’t let it go. Not until Ultra told him to. He loved the other mech enough that he would be willing to let him go free, if he wished, but only if asked.

Megazarak huddled down in a small cave guarded by large blue and green crystals guarding its entrance. He curled into himself, sighing heavily before he powered down for recharge.

Thoughts of Ultra at his side infiltrated his dreams.

.-.-.

Alpha Trion entered his office and made his way over to the small closet hidden in the wall. With his tapered digits, he drew his passcode symbol onto its surface and waited a moment for the sensors to register the drawing. When it did, the door slid open to reveal the Magnus Hammer.

He reached out and grabbed it, holding it in his servos and sighing heavily.

A decacycle after the address to the Elite Guard, the High Council had decided to end Magnus’s confinement period early upon hearing from Red Alert that Ultra was becoming agitated at having nothing to do, and that the resulting anxiety was stressing both him and the sparkling.

Now that he had been released and allowed to continue his duties, he needed his symbol of office back in his servo to be considered Magnus again.

For some reason the Hammer felt heavier than it really should have been.

“Ah Pit, Trion, ya gotta tell him.”

Alpha Trion looked up and turned around at the sound of Kup’s voice and found the Major standing in the still-open doorway of the office. He met the crabby mech’s optics and shook his helm in the negative, holding the weight of the Hammer in one servo. “As I have asked before, what would be the point of me venting to him?”

He watched the teal armored mech pull his ever-present cy-gar from between his dental plates and humph at him. “Primus above Trion, I saw how ya looked at Magnus when he was givin’ his speech.”

Trion closed the closet and gently placed the Hammer to lean against the wall. “How did I look during his address to the Guard?”

“Ya looked like the saddest mech that’s ever lived, that’s what ya looked like. Just count yerself lucky that all the cadets were too focused on lookin’ at Magnus and tryin’ to guess how big the bitlet’s gonna be. Some also tried givin’ a guess ‘bout who the sire is. Lot of ‘em thought it might be a Councilor or a Prime.”

“Oh, they don’t know how far from the truth that is. I’m curious though, what was the consensus about the sparkling’s size?”

“They all guess not that big, but that’s far from the point, Trion. My point is that ya gotta tell him what ya feel, ‘fore ya offline from sparkbreak.”

Walking over to his seat in the room, the Senior High Councilor mulled over his next words, staring off somewhere at the opposite wall. “I have lived so many stellar cycles holding that secret close to my spark. I can live the rest of my life cycle the exact same. Especially since…” Alpha Trion trailed off, putting the tips of his digits on both servos together, tapping them against his lipplates.

“‘specially since what?”

Moving his digits away from his face, Trion looked up at Kup with barely-concealed hurt in his optics. “Especially since he is sparked with another mech’s progeny. And the other mech, as far as we know per information from our intel officer, is still functioning. It would be very disrespectful for me to put this in his processor.”

“Far as we know, ya said. What if, say, Megazarak disappears forever or somethin’?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, what if his spark guttered out is what I’m sayin’. Offline, no chance of comin’ back to online status. Would ya tell Ultra Magnus then?”

“No, because if that were the case, then I would be taking advantage of a single carrier that is grieving the loss of their mate. I can’t think of anything more reprehensible.”

Kup stuck the cy-gar back in his mouth and chewed on the tip. “Well-”

“And what if Megazarak does come back?” Alpha Trion cut him off, questions running through his processor. “What if he finds his way to Cybertron and finds out that Ultra is carrying his sparkling? And what if I’ve told Ultra before then about how long I have been in love with him?”

“What’re ya sayin’?

“What I am saying is that if he does find his way here, Ultra Magnus will go back to Megazarak for the sake of their sparkling. Imagine that I tell him my sentiments, and that he accepts them, but then Megazarak returns. If that were to happen, _that_ would render my spark to pieces more than keeping this secret for the rest of my life cycle will.”

“Hmm. Well there’s always a three-bot relationship ya could do if yer into that.”

Alpha Trion’s processors stalled, and when the words registered in his processor he gave Kup a look of incredulity.

“Kiddin’, I’m kiddin’ Trion. Besides, addressin’ what ya said about Megazarak comin’ here,” Kup paused and his intakes made a springing noise before he resumed, “doubt he’d come. He’s not exactly welcome here even though we got a ceasefire goin’ on. He’d be taken into custody ‘cause we’re not at peace just yet. And I’m sure he and Magnus would make like they don’t know each other. Imagine them gettin’ all over each other. That would get Magnus crucified or somethin’. Either way, you have an in.”

Alpha Trion’s faceplates twisted into something that showed he was having an internal conflict. He in-vented and turned his seat away from Kup, staring out of the window in his office. “If I do tell him,” he finally said after a brief silence, “I will need to make sure that I assure him that I do not expect him to return my affections.” He sighed. “In all honesty I do not expect him to do so, nor do I expect an answer right away. His processor is occupied with other matters.”

“Could work. Get somethin’ off your thin shoulder struts too. ‘fraid they’ll break under the weight and all.”

“Then I will tell him at some point in my life cycle. But it will be on my own terms. Be it now, or stellar cycles from now. And if he stalls and can’t give me an answer… I’ve waited this long. I can wait longer.”

“Heh, ya really do have an infinite ‘mount of patience. Well, just don’t take yer sweet time, Trion. Otherwise we’ll be havin’ this conversation again when yer on the verge of goin’ offline.”


	10. Pulses

_“Ultra. What are you thinking about?”_

_Magnus moved his helm slightly to look up and see warm red optics staring down at him as Megazarak leaned over his body from behind.  He gave the other mech a small grin and shifted so he lay closer to Megazarak, his back pressed to the Decepticon’s front. As the stars called his attention again, he looked back and absent-mindedly make more constellations in the sky. “I’m not certain.”_

_Megazarak mouthed at one of his helm fins and he felt one of the Decepticon’s servos stroke his shoulder strut and arm. “You’re staring out the window at the stars, Ultra. You’re thinking of something. I know you better than you think I do.”_

_“I told you, I’m not certain.”_

_“There’s the in-vent, pause, then ex-venting process.” Megazarak chuckled. “Primus, you make such a terrible liar.”_

_The mech reached for the servo stroking his arm and intertwined their digits. Letting out a sigh, he admitted, “The only thought I know right now is how happy I am.”_

_“With me?”_

_There was a hopeful tone to Megazarak’s voice that made Magnus smile. He nodded. “Yes, with you.” Deciding that he’d been staring out the window long enough, he turned over in the berth and curled into the larger frame, resting his helm on the mech’s chassis. “I never thought I could be so content.”_

_Strong arms wrapped around him, and he felt Megazarak’s lipplates meet his helm crest. “And I never thought I’d find happiness. In an Autobot, no less.”_

_“Hmm. Were you expecting a Decepticon other?”_

_“I wasn’t expecting an “other” in my life cycle. Doing what I do has its trials and troubles and I didn’t want to bring someone into it.”_

_Narrowing his optics, Magnus looked up and glared at the Decepticon. He replied, “But you brought me in.”_

_“Yes,” Megazarak admitted without looking at the blue-armored mech, “but because you know what it’s like. You know how it is to be lonely at the top of the chain of command.”_

_Magnus thought of all the opportunities he had before this, and having to run from them, all because of his duties as Supreme Commander. Optics softening, he shifted so he could reach up and bring Megazarak’s helm down closer to his level, kissing the other mech. “If I had to be with someone, I thank Primus that it’s with you.”_

_Megazarak kissed him back, and both mechs lay in berth, Magnus wrapped in Megazarak’s arms as the Decepticon’s sharp-tipped digits that never brought him harm stroked his backplates. He placed his helm on Megazarak’s chassis, comforted by the strong pulses of the spark that was housed underneath the armor and protoform._

_He must have drifted off into a light recharge, as the next thing he knew it was a cycle later and he woken up when he felt the other mech’s chassis rise and fall in a heavy sigh. Magnus stirred and blinked his optics, turning his helm and looking up at Megazarak. Yawning, he said, “Now I know you are the one thinking of something.”_

_Megazarak looked at him, smiled, and kissed his helm. “It is nothing, Ultra. I’m merely thinking.”_

_“Of?”_

_He watched the Decepticon’s lipplates twist into a contemplative frown. He shook his helm in the negative. “Don’t worry about it, love. You go to sleep. You need it.”_

_Magnus rolled onto his back and stretched, checking his chronometer. It was a few cycles until the rest of the Elite Guard would wake, but it would still be cutting it close. “No. I’ll have to leave in a short bit.”_

_“You should rest for your trip, then.”_

_“No, and not until you tell me what you’re thinking of.” Magnus placed his digits on the Decepticon’s faceplates. “What is it?”_

_Internal conflict showed on Megazarak’s faceplates. “Promise you won’t get upset.”_

_“I can’t make promises, Megazarak. You know that. But I still want to know; what is it that’s troubling you?”_

_“It’s not troubling me, Ultra. I simply…” the mech trailed off, and Magnus could feel the hesitation in the other mech’s electromagnetic field._

_“You simply?” Magnus iterated, trying to entice an answer out of the bigger mech._

_Megazarak reached out and took one of his servos into his, stroking up his arm. The motion normally melted Magnus where he was, but this time he steeled his resolve and looked pointedly at the larger mech to let him know he wouldn’t be swayed too easily._

_The Decepticon finally seemed to surrender. He sighed heavily. “When this conflict ends for good,” Megazarak began, “which it will… would you consider bonding with me, Ultra?”_

_Processors stopping in their tracks at the unexpected proposal, Magnus blinked at the larger mech. Both of them stared at each other for a few kliks, silence permeating the space of the small cabin. Then, without answering the other mech, Magnus got to his pedes and walked out of the little berthroom into the cockpit._

_He heard Megazarak get off the berth as well and follow him toward the cramped area._

_He sat in the pilot’s seat and activated the ship’s computer and controls. When he turned around, he found the Decepticon leader standing a few steps away from him, looking at him with a hopeful yet crushed expression on his faceplates._

_“Ultra?”_

_Magnus stared, biting down on his lower lipplate, before casting his glance down at Megazarak’s cloven pedes._

_“Ultra, I’m not going to leave until I hear you say something in response.” Megazarak’s tone was very firm. “Yes or no or something in between. It doesn’t matter.”_

_Looking back up, meeting the Decepticon’s optics, Ultra Magnus replied, “I need to think about it, Megazarak. I’m sorry. I can’t give you an answer right now.”_

_The Decepticon looked defeated, but he composed himself and nodded once before he disembarked from the ship. The moment Megazarak had set pedes on the planet’s surface, Magnus sent the command for the shuttle to pull up._

_.-.-._

_Clang._

Magnus steadied himself against the edge of his desk and placed his free servo to the side of the gentle swell, where the sparkling had just put all his strength into kicking him.

“Kicking me will accomplish nothing,” he said in the sternest voice he could muster, though he knew that it was absolutely pointless to chastise the bitlet. Sure enough, the sparkling made another clanging noise and wriggled a bit.

Sighing in exasperation, Magnus moved the servo to his front and stroked the now-visible curve of his middle, and turned back to the datapad he held in his other servo. He’d been greeted with a stack of datapads on his desk the first cycle back in his office since he’d been forced out of it while under guard. Normally he would have dreaded it, but in this instance he was happy to have something purposeful to do.

Sitting at the desk was not an option, however, as the sparkling had decided. He began to feel faintly ill, usually a precursor to the carrying nausea he thought was already over, and restlessness after a cycle of sitting down. Then the sparkling decided that it was a perfect opportunity to press all of their miniscule weight down on his pelvic plating and stick a limb into his intakes. That was what made him decide that it was better to get up and pace around his office.

Thank Primus he had more energy this time around than he had a few decacycles ago.

His steps around the office, he noted, were a lot slower and less brisk than they had been before he’d begun showing his carriage. The weight of the sparkling was undoubtedly slowing him down, and it was beginning to cause him a myriad of aches in joints on his frame, some that he didn’t even know he had.

Overall, he thought, he would classify his carrying cycle to this point as being an inconvenience. Even if it was one he decided to bring upon himself.

The sparkling suddenly began a volley of kicking and wriggling, and he groaned in exasperation and none-too-gently dropped the datapad onto the surface of his desk. “Oh, fine, _fine_. You were quiet when I was laying down. If I go lie down, will you calm yourself and stop kicking me?”

He had nowhere to lay down, however. Well, Red Alert did tell him to rest as much as he could. He supposed he couldn’t be blamed if he ducked out for a brief recharge cycle.

There was some knocking at the door to his office.

Shaking off the startle he felt, he placed a servo on his backstrut, trying to get the ache out of the joint where it met his pelvic strut, as he walked over to the door. Ultra Magnus opened it to be greeted by the sight of Alpha Trion holding the Magnus Hammer in his servo. The High Councilor held the staff out.

“I believe you will be needing this.”

For a klik, Magnus was too stunned to register what was in front of him. He took hold of the Hammer and smiled at the familiar, and very much missed, weight in his servos.

At the same time the sparkling jammed something up into his intakes, making his breath hitch. Magnus moved his dominant servo from the handle of the Hammer to his side and muttered, “I am not going to miss your kicks.”

“Very active little one. Were you like that?”

“I wouldn’t know. My creators no longer function, and we did not get along while they did.”

Alpha Trion shuffled his pedes sheepishly where he was, which was admittedly a little bit disconcerting for the Magnus of Cybertron. He remembered the look of betrayal in the elder mech’s optics as he reprimanded him on the subject of his conduct while in office the previous decacycle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No apologies are needed.” Speaking those particular words gave the Magnus a sense of déjà vu, as if he’d said them before, but he brushed it off. “I felt nothing when they passed,” he added nonchalantly.

_Clang!_

Magnus sighed and tightened his grip on the Hammer, pressing a servo to his side. “I have to say, my thanks to you and the High Council for rescinding my punishment early. I was beginning to lose my processor, having nothing to do. And thank you for returning the Hammer to my possession, Alpha Trion.” He looked at it again. “I’ve missed it more than I thought I would.”

“It is your staff of office, either way. You need to have it in order to be considered the Magnus of Cybertron. And I must also say something to you in return, Ultra Magnus.”

Magnus nodded and straightened his posture, looking at the High Councilor and noting the strange expression on the elder mech’s faceplates. It went away quickly as Trion said, “I must apologize for the harsh way I spoke you to the previous decacycle. The manner in which I laid out my accusations were, frankly, unbefitting of me.”

It took Magnus a moment to remember what it was that the Senior High Councilor was referring to, but when he remembered he reached his free servo out and placed it on Alpha Trion’s shoulder strut, smiling softly at him. “I hold no hard feelings against you over it, Alpha Trion. You were speaking the truth. I suppose…” Magnus looked at the corridor behind the elder mech for a moment, mulling over his words before he continued, “I suppose I needed to hear it spoken in such a manner.”

A corner of Alpha Trion’s lipplates quirked up a moment before it stopped.

“I know I have made the jobs of the High Council a lot more difficult because of this, and for that I apologize.”

The High Councilor nodded, and Magnus turned around and walked back to his seat, leaning the Hammer against his desk. It was when he sat back down that he realized that the High Councilmech was still standing in the open doorway with a perplexing expression on his faceplates.

“Alpha Trion?”

He watched as the elder mech blinked his optics, then shook his helm as if coming to his senses. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’ll… I’ll take my leave now.”

Before Magnus could reply, Alpha Trion was out of sight with the sound of his pedesteps fading every passing nanoklik. He didn’t have much time to think over the High Councilor’s behavior, as Red Alert raced in almost immediately with a large smile on her faceplates.

A smile that large was always enough to set him on edge. He’d known Red Alert for stellar cycles, and usually could tell when she had something up her shoulder strut. “Yes, Red Alert?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just remembered, sir,” she pulled some fragments of equipment out of her subspace that made him wonder how the Pit she’d managed to stuff it all in there, “that I haven’t shown you something.”

“How long will this take? I really need to resume my work.”

“Oh trust me sir, your work is going to be the absolute least of your worries.”

Magnus arched an optical ridge but moved his seat slightly further from the desk, giving the medic some space to set up the equipment that she had brought along. He watched her warily as she put bits and pieces together, wondering how she had even managed to move with her subspace being weighed down with it all.

Least of his worries, she’d said. Panic in his spark, and wondering why she would come to him with such a cheerful expression, Magnus asked, “What is this for? I visited you just a solar cycle ago, and you indicated that my sparkling is in excellent health.”

““Excellent health despite being small” were my actual words to you, and that’s still the case sir, so don’t worry about it. Can’t afford to have you worry too much. It’s not good for you and the sparkling.”

“Primus above Red Alert,” he sighed, rubbing his forehelm with one of his servos as he watched her connect some more things together, “I was beginning to think that something was wrong after all. Then why did you tell me that my work would be the least of my worries?”

“It will be! It just occurred to me that I’ve only seen your reaction to seeing your little mechling wriggling and feeling him kick. I haven’t let you hear him yet, have I?”

Racking his processor for any recollection, Magnus shook his helm. “I don’t believe so. But how will that-”

He was cut off mid-sentence as the medic placed something on the curve of his abdomen and flicked something on the contraption she’d brought along. Not a nanoklik later, a strange noise filled the room. Looking upward, he narrowed his optics and stared at nothing as he tried to determine what the noise was. It was a very loud thrumming noise, the volume going up and down in an erratic fashion, but overall staying constant.

Was it his internals working? Were they functioning properly? If they weren’t, were they going to affect the spark-

Then the reality of what he was listening to hit his processor. He stared at the medic with widened optics. “His spark?” he managed to ask, whispering through his awe.

Red Alert smiled and nodded in affirmation. “That’s his spark. You’re hearing his spark pulses.”

Magnus looked away from the medic and tilted his helm toward the ceiling again, grin slowly spreading across his faceplates as he listened to the thrumming. The fact that this was real sunk in further; the bitlet was a living being that he and Megazarak had made.

“Sir?”

It was then that he noticed that a small droplet of fluid had escaped his optics and was currently making its way down his faceplates. He brought a servo up and wiped it away, awkwardly clearing his vocalizer. “I’m fine. This is just overwhelming.”

“Feels real, doesn’t it? Hearing his life force?”

“Even moreso, yes.”

Red Alert smiled at him and switched off the machine, dropping the room into an echoing silence. “He’s going to have a wonderful carrier.”

“I certainly hope so. At least, I strive to be a better carrier than mine was to me.”

“You’ve already come ahead of your creators in knowing that you’ll be a better carrier to your own sparkling. Now,” Red Alert began stashing the equipment back in her subspace, “I know we had an appointment just a solar cycle ago but I have to ask this each time. How are you feeling? Is the nausea completely gone?”

“It has not completely disappeared, but it is more manageable. Though…” Magnus looked down and shifted where he sat. It was evident that the shame he felt showed up on his faceplates, as Red knelt down so she could still look at his face.

“What is it?” she inquired.

“I, um… I’m trying to think of a tactful way of saying this, but lately I’ve been experiencing some extremely powerful urges that I’m not used to experiencing.”

“Which are?”

Magnus felt like he was going to go offline from embarrassment. He closed his optics and drummed his digits on the desk. “The ones I would feel only with _him_ in particular.”

“As in…?” Red Alert made a waving motion with her servo, gesturing for him to continue.

He reopened his optics and glared at the femme. “Red Alert, don’t play with me. I know that you know what I’m referring to.”

“I do, but I’m your medic and you need to be very blunt about what is going on. There’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“I’m ashamed about this.”

“Sir, you’re going to go into emergence soon enough and I will be the one helping you then. I’ll be staring at your valve and prodding you with all sorts of instruments, making sure that you and the sparkling are fine. Oh and did I also mention the copious amounts of disgusting fluids that a carrier releases during emer-”

“Oh, _fine_ , you’ve made your point perfectly clear.” Magnus slapped a servo over his optics, sighed, and forced the words out. “I feel like I need a very long and very hard fragging, which I have not gotten since the last time I managed to meet up with him.”

“See, not so terrible was it?” He moved his servo away from his optics to see the medic get back to her pedes. “And addressing that issue, it’s perfectly normal around this time of carriage for your interfacing drive to increase, as this is the period where the bitlet grows the most and therefore needs the most amount of nanites from the sire. At this rate I believe all that can be done, given that he’s not here and you have not expressed an interest in finding someone to donate nanites for your sparkling, is to increase the amount of injections you get each solar cycle.”

“But will that completely alleviate the interfacing urges? I don’t enjoy sitting around trying to do my work when my systems are burning with that particular need.”

“It will alleviate them, but not entirely.” Red Alert sighed and put a servo to her hip. “If anything I’m going to say that since your frame is already so used to only him, it’s probably also a subconscious plea for him to be here with you. From what you’ve told me, you both connected best through interfacing.”

“We… we did. Yes.” Magnus felt his faceplates heat up at the thought of all the interfacing that he and Megazarak had done over the seven stellar cycles that they’d known each other.

Really, now that he thought further about it, it was a miracle they hadn’t merged sparks sooner than they did and that he hadn’t gotten sparked until now.

“Then I’d say you’re also missing the emotional connection you had with him.” The medic looked at him with something resembling pity. “At this rate all I can do is increase the dosage you get. That means two or maybe even _three_ injections per solar cycle.” A wicked smile crossed her faceplates. “How fun for you.”

Magnus warily eyed the two syringes that Red Alert brought out of her subspace. By now he knew that trying to squirm away was useless (and not beneficial to the sparkling), but that didn’t mean that he didn’t try.

Red Alert merely grabbed at him and forced the needle between shoulder armor. She must have seen the pained expression on his faceplates, as she scoffed and said, “Stop squirming, you overgrown sparkling.”


	11. The Message

_“And for the next item on the agenda: in the event of a peace treaty, we the Decepticons demand that the Autobot stronghold of Com be signed over to us-”_

_“Absolutely not!” Highbrow bellowed from his place at Ultra Magnus’s left, cutting off the Decepticon ambassador that was reading from the datapad. The Autobot Commander held his servo up in a command for silence, then gave the mech seated directly across him a stern look._

_Megazarak had the decency to look ashamed as he tapped his digits on the table. “Blitzwing,” Megazarak muttered under his breath, giving Ultra Magnus a glance before glaring at his lieutenant, “I ordered you and Clench to strike that from the preliminary treatise.”_

_Magnus arched an optical ridge as another one of Blitzwing’s faces spun in, this time the one with the single lens and the cold demeanor. “Curious. Why should we allow the Autobots to have all the spoils?”_

_To his right, Alpha Trion snorted. “What spoils? You have more planets in your empire than we do.”_

_Magnus cleared his vocalizer. “Is the reason that Com is so desired this time around because of its proximity to Garo, and because of the armed outpost that we have on its surface?”_

_“I would assume so,” Highbrow threw in._

_There was quiet around the table, with none of the Decepticons trying to deny the assumption._

_“Then the answer is no,” Magnus said, looking Megazarak right in the optics. “And if you don’t mind,” he backed up the seat and stood up, “I am calling it a night cycle. We all must go recharge, so we may get our processors back in order.”_

_He didn’t pay attention to the noises behind him as he walked out and down the looming hallway into the receiving room. The meeting had begun at mid-solar cycle, but time had passed so quickly that it was now twilight on New Kaon. Darkened skies and flickering stars outside the large windows of the receiving room greeted him._

_Magnus wondered if he would be able to pinpoint Cybertron from where he was, but then he realized that the receiving room would have to be on the southern side of the Citadel instead of the northern side._

_He placed his digits on the glass and ex-vented heavily, watching as more stars appeared in his visual field._

_After what felt like a cycle, he felt digits brush lightly against the back of his shoulders. Startled, he jolted and looked around, only to relax slightly when he saw that it was only Megazarak. “I don’t appreciate having the back of my shoulder struts touched.”_

_Megazarak’s mischievous expression turned apologetic. “Ah, I didn’t know that. I won’t do it again.”_

_Magnus gave the Decepticon leader a small smile and then looked back outside. It was now past twilight, and actually night. “I was hoping to see Cybertron from here.”_

_“You can’t?”_

_“Judging by the stars I am able to see, this is the northern side of the planet and I would need to see a window facing the southern side so I can tell you where Cybertron is.”_

_“Hmm. Interesting.” Megazarak gave him a mischievous smile again._

_“What is?”_

_“My quarters have windows on the southern side of New Kaon. Perhaps you might be able to pinpoint Cybertron from there, hmm?”_

_Magnus gave Megazarak a flat look and shook his helm, which made the Decepticon leader stick his lower lipplate out in a mock-offended pout. “Absolutely not. I applaud your attempt, however.”_

_“Lord Megazarak.”_

_He watched as Megazarak looked over his helm and sighed. “Yes, Megatron?”_

_Though his backstrut was to the other mech’s adopted creation, Magnus could tell that the heated gaze he felt was coming from Megatron. He tapped his digits on the window and looked out of it, refusing to turn around and meet the young mech’s optics. However, he could clearly see red optics boring into his back._

_“Behave yourself. What is it?”_

_“Blitzwing and Clench request your presence.”_

_“Have they taken this time to revise the preliminary treatise?”_

_Megatron gave Megazarak a flat stare._

_Scoffing, Megazarak answerd, “I take that as a “no” then. Tell them that I’ll be there soon.”_

_Magnus watched in the window as Megatron retreated back into the corridor, and waited until the sounds of the young mech’s pedesteps faded away before he looked Megazarak in the optics. “He has severe dislike of me.”_

_“You’re not the only one.”_

_Magnus tilted his helm slightly to the side in confusion._

_Megazarak put a servo on Magnus’s shoulder, but not without a questioning glance that was met with an approving nod. “He dislikes anyone that gets too close to me. Or that isn’t loyal to him.” He frowned and looked out the window a brief moment. “I don’t know exactly what it is yet, but I’m close to narrowing the precise reason down.”_

_“So he sees me as a threat?”_

_“I assume so. But don’t fret, Ultra. He won’t do anything to you except stare knives in your direction. I assume you know where your quarters are?”_

_“As with the past two instances that I’ve been here, yes. They’re in the same area.”_

_Megazarak smiled. “Well, I was looking for any excuse to prolong our shared company. But if you know where to go, then I must bid you a good night.” He bowed and then left._

_Magnus also waited for the sound of Megazarak’s pedesteps to fade away before he turned and looked at the entrance to the corridor, sighing._

.-.-.

There it was again.

Magnus onlined from his recharge cycle with a frustrated huff and slowly sat up, curling his servos into fists and pressing them against the berth’s surface. He tried to calm his spark’s increased and erratic rate of pulse, but it did no good.

It had been a decacycle at this point that he’d been back at his duties, and a bit more than that since he’d started feeling that wanton need for a rough interface.

He was still embarrassed about it. The need only surfaced when he was around Megazarak, and before Megazarak it surfaced those few times he had trysts with fellow cadets. Otherwise he was perfectly content going without interfacing.

For a brief moment he thought of retrieving the “gift” that Megazarak had given him and putting it to use since the other mech wasn’t around, but he shut that thought away and got to his pedes. If he busied himself, the urge would dull away to a faint ebb.

At least, until his work was done for the solar cycle and he tried to recharge. He could count on it returning, coupled with the mechling thumping against his internals and keeping him awake.

True to form, he felt the bitlet stir and stretch inside of him. A moment later, the sparkling gave him a “Hi carrier!” kick.

The first few times it had happened, he had to stop and close his optics, look at the little pinpricks of light that appeared in his visual field. It had been a very strange feeling then, and it still was, but the more he felt the bitlet move, the more he was able to ignore it and go about his solar cycle.

He got to his pedes and sighed. It was closer to waking cycle than the midnight cycle, but he would have much rather have laid in berth. However, the wriggling sparkling had other ideas.

Magnus fetched a cube of energon and sat on the long seat in the common room, sipping the nutrient-addled drink and feeling the bitlet wiggle and flip. A corner of his lipplates twitched and he looked down, still startled at how much he was showing.

“I’m surprised you have enough room in there to do all your acrobatics,” he murmured to the silence and thumps that greeted him, rubbing a servo over the swell of his middle. “Red Alert says you’re very close to taking up all the space you’re allotted.”

As the sparkling settled down. He stared at the wall and pondered whether or not to activate one of the news feeds, or put on one of his favorite films.

An insistent ping on his communication link cancelled that train of thought.

::You are lucky I’m not in recharge::

::Ultra Magnus, sir:: Botanica’s tone of voice sounded urgent, which made him sit a little straighter. ::We need to have a meeting::

::Specifically you and I?::

::The High Council and you. You said you wanted more news pertaining to Megazarak as it came in::

Magnus set the now-empty cube of energon aside and got to his pedes. ::Where do I meet you all?::

::We’re gathered at the conference room nearest Highbrow’s quarters. Be quick::

The communication line cut off then. Magnus closed his optics and sighed heavily. “Primus, please…”

He didn’t know what to say after that.

The walk to the conference room was long. Magnus had forgotten how empty the base could be before waking hours. His pedesteps echoed as he walked, and he hoped he wouldn’t wake anyone else up.

The sparkling had gone quiet, which Magnus was thankful for. He assumed the bitlet had fallen back into recharge, lulled to sleep by the motions and rhythm of the walking.

When he entered the room, he immediately felt the four Councilors tense at the sight of him. Perceptor and Highbrow looked away, Alpha Trion’s lipplates twitched and he nodded. Botanica, however, widened her optics and stared at him as he walked to the empty seat between her and Alpha Trion.

“Oh, my Primus. Sir, I know it’s beyond my capacity to ask but… may I?”

Magnus looked at Botanica’s outstretched servo and shied away from it, prompting her to pull her servo back and look vaguely ashamed at her forwardness. “I’m sorry but I would rather you not touch. Not at least while he’s in recharge. It could wake him up, and I’d rather avoid that for now.” He cleared his vocalizer. “Let us get this meeting over with while I’m able to concentrate, and while limbs are not being stuck into various parts of my frame. What is going on?”

“To start off,” Highbrow began, “we’ve received a distress message.”

“From Megazarak?”

Perceptor looked at him over his lenses and nodded in affirmation. “From Megazarak.”

Highbrow pulled a small recording device out of his subspace and slid it across the table to Magnus, who struggled a bit when reaching over but managed to grab it. Pausing a moment to compose himself and prepare for anything that could come from the device, Magnus looked around at the Councilors and pressed the button to play the message.

_“-anyone who can hear me, this is Megazarak-”_

He would have recognized that voice anywhere. His spark skipped a pulse when he heard the name.

_“-for assistance. My Decepticons have ejected me from their ranks, and though I have no proof yet, I fear that I am being followed. I have been hopping planets and just landed on Garo. Energon levels are running low. An injury sustained during my escape is acting up and may require medical attention. If possible I would like to speak to Ultra Magnus, Supreme Commander of the Auto-”_

The recording devolved into some more bursts of unintelligible static before it completely cut out, sinking the room into a tense silence.

“Where did you receive this message from?” Magnus asked after he wrapped his processor around what he had just heard, looking back up at Highbrow.

“Our outpost on Com received it from Garo, and they in turn handed the recording of it over to us.”

Magnus in-vented, then made to get up from his seat as quickly as he could (which wasn’t easy with the mass of a sparkling weighing him down). “I have to go to him.”

Suddenly there were shouts in the room, and he felt two pairs of servos grabbing him and forcing him to sit back down.

“No!” Botanica shouted.

“Magnus, what are you thinking?!” Highbrow yelled.

“Keep your servos on him, Botanica,” Alpha Trion sternly ordered as Magnus felt the Senior Councilor’s grip on his arm tighten.

The sparkling jolted awake at the cacophony of voices and began a volley of angry kicking, clearly upset at his nap having been interrupted. In the back of his processor, Magnus was faintly amazed that the sparkling had that much strength in him. He winced loudly and closed his optics, gritting his dentae. Each rough kick of his sparkling made stars explode into hypernovas in his visual field.

“Sir?” Perceptor’s voice inquired.

After the seventh hard kick in a row to his pelvic strut, the sparkling stopped. Magnus opened an optic and glared at the two mechs across the table. “You all woke him up, Primus damn you all.” He wrenched his arms free of the Councilors to his right and left sides and groaned as the sparkling did what he assumed were backflips in the small space of the chamber. The stars reappeared with less intensity. “So I assume there wasn’t a quieter way to tell me “No, you may not contact Megazarak”?”

Highbrow snorted and glared back. “With the speed you were attempting to rush out, we had to take quick action to prevent you from giving us yet _another_ helmache on top of the many you’ve given us lately.”

“Fine. So explain to me why I can’t go to Megazarak.”

“Oh Primus damn you, Ultra Magnus. That sparkling is messing with your sense of judgement. This is exactly why the council recommended that you terminate.”

“I will overlook that comment,” Magnus huffed, angry at the slight against his sparkling but trying to keep focus as he continued glaring at the Head of Intelligence, “and ask you again to explain why I can’t go to Megazarak and render aid to him.”

“Simple: ever since your grand announcement that you’re growing a sparkling, security has been tightened around the base and that blanket punishment now includes you, Ultra Magnus.”

“What?”

Highbrow scoffed. “You don’t think I wasn’t informed about the many times you snuck out of Fort Max over a period of five stellar cycles, and were gone until it was almost time for morning drills? I ordered the guards at the shuttle bays to give you a pass due to your title, and as long as you weren’t giving away intel that we could see, I turned my optics away. However, thanks to your consorting with Megazarak, I’ve ordered security to be tightened, and for you to be followed should you sneak out of the base again.”

Magnus stared at Highbrow.

“I disguised it as me being concern about you trying to fly alone, in your current state. So if I were to let you fly out alone, and meet with Megazarak, questions will be raised especially since I do not intend on turning a blind optic this time around.”

There was another very long period of intense silence as Magnus moved his stare from the Head of Intelligence to the small recording device that was still in his servo. He curled his digits around it and moved his servo to transfer it to his subspace.

Highbrow looked like he was going to say something, but decided against it.

Magnus stared at the surface of the table, tapped a digit, and ex-vented heavily. “He is the first of the long line of Decepticon tyrants that has actually shown an interest in ending this war. During the seven stellar cycles we’ve been acquainted, the amount of skirmishes that we’ve been involved in have dwindled. And now he’s pleading for our help. If I cannot go to him, then please have someone that is stationed on Com go to him.”

Alpha Trion spoke next, prompting the Magnus to look at him. “Highbrow sent an order for aid to be rendered to him on Garo. But he is not allowed to set pede on an Autobot stronghold.”

“So he will be given energon and have the injury he mentioned looked at?”

“Yes.”

Really he would have rather been the one to go to him and make sure that Megazarak was being treated properly. He wanted to be the one to hold Megazarak’s helm in his lap, stroke his arms and tell him that he was going to be fine.

More than anything else, he wanted to tell him that they would be a family.

Megazarak would have been so excited at the news. He knew Megazarak so well that he could already picture exactly how the mech would react. Megazarak’s optics would widen as comprehension dawned on him. Then he would seize his helm in his servos and kiss him, and cry out that he was going to be a sire, and that their sparkling would have the best and most beautiful carrier in the universe.

“Will I be allowed to pass a message onto Megazarak, if I can’t meet with him?”

Though he was staring down at the table, he could feel all four Councilors glance at each other warily.

Botanica answered. “We can’t risk it.”

The sparkling suddenly kicked after a period of little movement. Magnus put his servo to his side and finally looked up. “Why not?”

“You plan on telling him that you’re carrying his sparkling, aren’t you?” Perceptor asked in an almost accusatory-tone.

Magnus grit his jaw, and he felt a cable in his neck twitch.

“We know what you’ll try to do, Ultra Magnus,” Perceptor continued. “We can’t risk him knowing this or finding this out. Yes, we understand that he is the sire and that he deserves to know, but-”

“But what? At every turn I’m being denied contact with the sire of my son, not even to let him know that he’s sired a sparkling. He has always wanted this. If I ordered him to keep this to himself, I know he would.”

“What if he _is_ being tracked?” Perceptor posited.

Magnus narrowed his optics. “What do you mean?”

“He mentioned that he was ejected from the Decepticons,” Alpha Trion answered this time, “but then that he escaped. There’s a chance that whomever it is that usurped his position as leader of the Decepticons possibly has a contingent of troops searching for him, as he said. Imagine if we were to send you out and they found him.”

“The both of you would be captured, and possibly killed,” Botanica said quietly. “You would be deactivated the moment they laid optics on you because of your obvious carriage. His successor, if he truly wants Megazarak offline, wouldn’t want there to be any trace of Megazarak left. Even if the last trace left was his own progeny.”

Magnus had to admit they were right. He closed his optics and pressed a servo against them, stemming the flow of optical fluid that threatened to fall.

A soft voice spoke. “Have you considered that Megazarak’s actions towards you have been an act this entire time, Ultra Magnus?”

“No. And I won’t hear it-”

“He fell for you so quickly.” Alpha Trion sighed heavily. “You said that he claimed the first battle-”

“I said I will not hear it, and I mean it Councilor Trion. Megazarak may be a Decepticon, but they do not carry on deceptions that last this long.” Magnus tapped his digits against the table, staring at the surface again and frowning. “Affairs of the spark are not mere objects that they toy with.”

“How do you know?” Alpha Trion asked, tone accusatory.

“I know it was not an act, because Megazarak and I planned to bond our sparks after we managed to end the war.”

There was silence.

“That means little,” Botanica said flatly.

“Well, it means everything to both him and I.”

Botanica opened her mouth to reply, but then Highbrow put his servo to his audio receptor and held his other servo up, demanding silence.

“High Councilor Highbrow, how may I… I beg your pardon? Are you sure? Did you check the entire place? Yes, yes, I know Garo is small.”

Magnus looked at the Councilor at the mention of Garo, biting down on his lower lipplate.

“You checked the caverns, the crevices, the rest of… yes. And you’re certain that you saw no one leaving with him? Nothing else? Oh Primus, do not address me in such a manner, I hold a higher position than you do and I can have you demoted back to Minor in a sparkbeat. Fine, fine. Just don’t do it again. Let me know if there are any further developments.”

The moment Highbrow moved his servo from his audio, Alpha Trion leaned across the table. “What is it?”

Magnus could see that Highbrow was doing what he could to avoid looking at him.

“That was the Major in charge of the outpost at Com. Their responses to Megazarak went unanswered, and upon arriving with energon rations and medical supplies they found no trace of him.” He paused and finally looked at Magnus. “But they have found signs that a skirmish took place there.”

A very heavy silence blanketed the room. All optics looked at Magnus again.

He stared back down at the surface of the table and closed his optics, slowly ex-venting. Without saying a word, Ultra Magnus opened his optics, got to his pedes, and walked out of the conference room.


	12. Keep My Peace

_Gasps and moans filled the shuttle as Megazarak bucked his hips upwards, thrusting his spike into the slick and wet heat and jostling his partner where he sat. Ultra had a fierce, possessive grip on his helm, which aided him in resuming his pace as he rode the thick spike._

_The Decepticon leader had his arms wrapped around Ultra’s frame, heated gaze meeting the Autobot’s blissed out expression._

_“You’re beautiful,” he heard himself whispering as he thrust, kissing the other mech. “Primus you’re so beautiful.”_

_He loved how Ultra melted in his arms when he told him that. And it was true. It wasn’t mere flattery. Over the past five stellar cycles he had come to love the Autobot even more than he thought would be possible._

_He parted his chassis, blue spark coming forth. And he didn’t miss how Ultra’s pace slowed down, and how the Magnus’s optics looked at his life force._

_“Merge with me?”_

_Ultra shook his helm, gasping as he continued riding his spike. “No. You promised we’d wait… until after the war,” he managed to say, tightening the grip of his servos on his helm._

_“I know. But this is a merge. Not a bond. Please, just this once.”_

_It was probably the lust roiling through the Autobot’s systems, but he was both surprised and delighted when, after a nanoklik of silence from the other mech’s end, Ultra parted his own chassis. They watched as their sparks merged into one life source._

_Megazarak had done this once, but even then it had been so long ago and he barely remembered what would happen. Of course, he knew logically what would, but the actual sensations of merging his life with another’s had been lost on him._

_Clearly it was Ultra’s first time. Megazarak watched the mech’s expression turn to one of confusion._

_“These memories,” Ultra breathed as he slowly rocked on the spike inside his valve, “are not mine.”_

_“Yes,” Megazarak replied, pressing his chassis forward so he and Ultra’s touched. “They’re mine. And I see yours too.”_

_Apprehension and something that felt like fear filtered into Megazarak’s spark, but he quickly realized those emotions were not his. He gripped Ultra close and sent back reassuring, loving pulses along the faint, temporary bond that was forming._

_His processor was now on display for Ultra to sift through. He felt the hesitation on Ultra’s side, before the mech decided there was nothing to fear, and he opened his mind for Megazarak to view._

_The images and memories hit Megazarak full-force. Megazarak saw the outright neglect that his beloved had experienced in his younglinghood. In one brief image of the inattentive creators, Megazarak saw that Ultra bore all resemblance to his own carrier._

_From the pang of sadness that accompanied the memories of Ultra’s carrier, he deduced that of his sire and carrier, the emotional and physical coldness of his carrier hurt the most. And he could see why: the one bot that had carried and given you life being cold towards you was an incredibly cruel thing indeed, though he had no experience without creators of his own._

_He tightened his arms around the blue-armored mech and buried his faceplates in his neck cables. Along the temporary bond, he told Ultra that he was sorry, and that he had him now. In response, the Autobot gripped his helm in his servos and pulled his helm slightly closer to kiss him._

_Overload crashed through their systems. Megazarak held onto Ultra, shuddering and moaning as the smaller mech in his arms gasped, frame shaking through the after-effects._

_Slowly their shaking subsided, and when he looked down again, he saw that Ultra had been knocked into stasis._

_Well. That was a first._

_Megazarak gave a quiet chuckle and closed both of their chestplates, maneuvering the both of them to lie on the berth. He pulled Ultra close to his frame and wrapped him in his arms, kissing the mech’s elegant antennae. Ultra stirred, but didn’t wake._

_He moved his gaze from the mech in his arms to the view outside the window. Ultra had always liked gazing out of the window. The fascination slightly mystified him, as he had never given more than a cursory glance at the stars, even when he was soaring through them between planets and planetoids._

_Ultra had told him that right outside the window were set of stars that properly formed his helm, spiky bits of armor and the gash underneath his left optic included. He’d taken his larger servo in his and helped him trace the constellation he had found, but truthfully Megazarak hadn’t been able to see it._

_He wasn’t about to tell his chosen mate that he was deluded, however. Nor was he going to crush his emotions._

_All he could do was pull Ultra into his lap and kiss him sensorless._

_His processor drifted off to fantasy. Now that he had heard Ultra tell him “Yes” to his question of bonding post-war, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from thinking of what their life post-war would be like._

_Besides copious amounts of fragging, he assumed._

_He would finally get to see the many landforms of Cybertron, which he had only seen in Ultra’s descriptions of them, and in photographic captures from so long ago that they likely didn’t match the real thing in the present._

_He remembered asking Ultra to bring him a present photo capture of the Crystal Gardens of Iacon, wanting to see how they paled in comparison or surpassed Intel’s own crystals, but the mech shook his helm and said that he had little time to step out of Fortress Maximus. The mech had emphasized that he had to steal time from recharge to go to these meetings._

_Well, post-war, Ultra would definitely have time._

_Part of him hoped that Ultra would resign from his position as Magnus. Despite their bond taking place post-war, he knew that the Autobots would have a hard time accepting him as their Magnus’s mate. How he wanted for the both of them to retire to a quiet place away from the prying optics of both Autobot and Decepticon societies._

_And… dare he hope? He hoped there would be a sparkling or two in the picture._

_He looked down again at Ultra and smiled, thinking of their fantasy bitlets running around their pedes, hoping that they would bear more of a resemblance to Ultra than they would to his original, forged frame. The image of pairs of blue optics, too large for their little frames, staring up at him and Ultra melted his spark._

_With his gentle nature, he knew Ultra would make a wonderful carrier._

_But those were questions for another time._

_Megazarak kissed Ultra’s helm, smiling as he felt the mech stir again and curl further into his chassis. He set his chronometer to wake them a few cycles before Ultra had to return, and went into recharge._

.-.-.

Alpha Trion stared out the window of his office at nothing in particular, vaguely aware of the darkening sky and the lights of Iacon’s highrise edifices coming online. From his particular window he had noticed, ages ago, he could see the Crystal Gardens of Iacon as a very faint glow.

He had lived near the Gardens in a long-forgotten time, when Autobots and Decepticons weren’t existing terms. He had missed them when he was elected Senior High Councilor and required to reside in Fortress Maximus, but if he could see them from his office, well… it made the separation slightly easier.

He would have to go back at some later time, pick up small bits of fallen crystals, and probably ask for a few clusters of them that could be given to bots.

The door opened with a loud bang as it clanged against the wall, and Kup stepped through.

Even if he hadn’t been able to see the other mech’s reflection in the window, he would have known it was Kup, simply because he was the only bot that would visit him and often forget that it was courtesy to at least knock first.

Still looking at the glow of the gardens, Alpha Trion cleared his vocalizer. “What may I help you with, Kup?”

“Nothin’ Just comin’ in ta say I saw Magnus a lil’ earlier this solar cycle.”

That got his attention. Alpha Trion turned from the window and looked curiously at the teal mech with his optical ridges raised.

Kup pulled the cy-gar out of his mouth and made a springing noise as he continued, “Hadn’t seen him in a while, but fraggin’ Pit, the mech looks like he’s gonna pop any solar cycle now.”

“Well,” Alpha Trion sighed as he attempted to do some quick calculations off the top of his processor, “if I remember correctly, our Magnus has about six decacycles left to go. I’m assuming he’ll get even bigger. That is how it goes, after all.”

“Been a while since I’ve seen a carrier ‘round but yeah, just thinkin’ of it… weird. Makes me wonder how big that sparklin’s gonna get. Anyway, was comin’ in to check and see if yer doin’ alright.”

“Considering everything that has been happening, I’m… about as fine as can be.” Alpha Trion gave a bitter laugh and walked over to his desk, sitting in his seat and holding his helm in his servos.

A few moments of quiet later, he heard Kup plop himself down into the chair across the desk.

“No yer not. Bad liar, Trion.”

Trion pulled his helm away from his servos and shook his helm while laughing. “You really shouldn’t have put that thought into my processor, Kup. Since our first talk it’s… it’s been all I could think about. And it takes everything I have to not tell him.”

“If it’s gotten to ya like this, Trion, ya gotta tell him. It’s gonna eat at ya.”

“Do you know what just happened, Kup? Megazarak is missing. It was a mistake to tell Ultra Magnus, because he’s become more withdrawn. We haven’t seen much of him, which is why it was surprising that you said you saw him.”

“Saw him comin’ from the way of the med ward.”

“Then I suppose he is only stepping out for medical attention.” Trion put his servos over his faceplates and sighed heavily. “Even if I tell him I don’t expect him to reciprocate, if confessing puts so much pressure on him that it affects his carrying cycle negatively, I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself.”

“Well, talked ta Red Alert a lil’ earlier. Said he’s doin’ alright despite some things, which I’m guessin’ is what ya just told me ‘bout Megazarak.”

“She reports to the High Council, Kup. She’s forbidden from telling anyone else about Magnus’s real state of being,” Trion nodded in Kup’s direction, “including you.”

“Fragger.” But Trion knew it was in jest by the half-grin on Kup’s faceplates.

“Yes. I’m sorry, but we have to keep this as quiet as possible. If it were to get out that Megazarak’s disappearance is stressing Magnus out, there would be questions.”

“Suppose so. Speakin’ of questions, Shotter an’ his two cadet friends decided ta leave the Guard, but I also told ‘em in no uncertain terms should they talk about Magnus carryin’, else I’ll go kick ‘em through a goal post.”

“Good. At least we have them out.” Trion tapped his digits against the surface of his desk. “Are their frequencies going to be monitored?”

“Since they’re outta the Guard, can’t do much about it. But we’re still keepin’ an optic on ‘em since news spreads fast. Primus help ‘em if they spread it again. Probably kick ‘em through a post, then hang ‘em by a single pede from Iacon’s highest buildin’.”

“Have they been replaced?”

“Yeah, got three more cadets in that were on the waitin’ list first time ‘round. One called Tireburn, ‘nother called Longarm, ‘nd ‘nother called Slingshot.”

“We have to keep this from them as well, or else we risk this happening all over again.”

“Already know this well ‘nough, Trion.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just on edge.”

“Can tell. Know what’d make that edge go away? Tell Magnus.”

“You… fragger. But you’re right.”

Kup made the springing noise in his chassis again as he laughed. “Alright. Lemme know how it goes, Trion. Lookin’ forward ta it.”

.-.-.

The bitlet was in recharge, and he decided to take advantage of this time to set up the portable sparkling berth that Red Alert and First Aid had given him as a gift. He thanked Primus that his berthroom had at least enough space for the second berth, given that he didn’t have a spare one for the sparkling.

None of the other Magni that came before him had ever gotten sparked. Granted, there weren’t many that had held the title before him. This set a new precedent.

Of all the precedents he could have set…

Magnus slowly lowered himself to the floor and looked at the pieces of the berth strewn before him, grabbing two of the parts and putting them together as he had read on the small instructional datapad that had been included.

At least, he hoped he had read the instructions correctly.

However, when he leaned over to grab the third part that was to make up another wall of the sparkling berth, he found that he wasn’t able to lean all the way over to grab it. He sighed and looked down at the swollen mound of his belly, frowning.

This had been given to him back when he didn’t look like he was carrying a lob ball on his front. He really should have put it together long before now.

With some struggle he got to his pedes, holding onto the partially completed component in one servo, and slowly squatted as he picked up the third piece with his free servo and stuck it where it needed to be. It added some weight, but it was nothing that he couldn’t hold onto as he squatted and picked up the fourth piece.

Thank Primus the berth was short in length, only a tiny bit wider, and low to the ground, like his own berth.

Then he thought that he should sit on his berth and assemble the berth while sitting down.

He sighed and put the component that was made up by the four pieces on the berth and nudged the other stray parts over. There weren’t many, but when it was just himself, heavy and swollen, trying to put this together, it would likely take longer than anticipated.

As he sat and put the berth together, his processor wandered to Megazarak.

The first thought he had was that if he were there, he would’ve made the aft put the berth together himself.

His second thought was him reassuring himself that no news was good news. Ever since he had walked out of the meeting a few solar cycles ago with the knowledge that his Decepticon mate was injured, alone, kicked out of his position of power and possibly being pursued by whomever had taken over, he had been on edge. Daily messages were sent to Highbrow, asking if anything new had come about concerning Megazarak. And each day the response was a no, and that he was sorry and would update him the klik he heard something.

He hoped and prayed to Primus that he was fine. Likely he was.

If anything, Megazarak had probably fled before the skirmish on Garo had happened. Yes. That was exactly what had happened.

Nothing except the worst would sway him to think another way.

Pushing thoughts of worst-case scenarios out of his processor, Magnus shoved the last piece of the berth into place and held it out, examining his handiwork.

If the dimensions of the sparkling at his most recent scan were to go by, he should fit just fine.

A knock came at his door. Setting the berth aside, on the floor directly next to the end of his berth where he laid his helm each night cycle, Magnus got to his pedes and slowly made his way out of his berthroom and into the social room.

When he opened the door, he saw the Senior High Councilor standing there, and admittedly looking a little bit nervous. Giving the slightly smaller mech a brief smile, Magnus said, “What brings you here, Alpha Trion?”

The next words out of Alpha Trion’s mouth set him on edge: “I need to tell you something, Ultra Magnus. I cannot keep my peace any longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick update to get this going again. I'm currently swamped with final exams, preparing for graduation, and sorting out some personal issues. I hope the next chapter won't take this long to post, but we'll have to wait and see.


	13. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story. I had the Magnus and Trion bits written so it only took some more additions and edits to bring this updated chapter.

“Stop squirming!”

A nanoklik after the order was barked just above him, a fist met his helm, which made Megazarak grunt in pain. He tried to tug his arms out of the grips of the two burly, wide-shouldered mechs dragging him across the floor, but it was useless as they merely punched him again, keeping him under control.

Even if he had been able to wrench himself free, there was no guarantee that he would be able to make it out of New Kaon and to somewhere safe. He had been tracked down, shot at, and his injury from his first escape aggravated even further in the skirmish on Garo.

His leg was now hanging on by a few exposed cables that sparked, a threat that they, too, would eventually fail him.

“Traitor scum,” he heard one of his captors mutter under his breath, which made Megazarak wonder exactly what, or whom, had given him that idea.

Though he supposed he could take a proper guess.

“Leave him.”

He looked up at the familiar voice, and found himself looking at what was unmistakably his adopted creation, albeit with a new body design and… that helm was atrocious, he thought.

Then he was slammed faceplates-first onto the floor. He groaned and pushed himself up with his servos so he could look up at Megatron.

“What?” The sneer on Megatron’s faceplates made him want to pat his back and tell him to settle down.

Megazarak stared harshly at the young mech. “I’d exchange pleasantries with you, my son, but I need medical attention.”

He noted how the young mech frowned, twisting his lipplates in contemplation, before nodding. “Soon enough you’ll get it. Or perhaps not, depending on how my mood is after this.”

“Mech, you better get this seen and taken care of. Now, for the burning question that’s been on my processor since you decided to stand where I do,” Megazarak moved and grunted as his leg sparked, sending pain through his neural net, “why did you oust me?”

The grey mech snorted. “It is so simple, yet you don’t see it.”

“Quite frankly, no, but then again I’ve always needed basic concepts explained to me.”

Megatron shook his helm and scoffed. “It’s really very simple,  _ sire _ . You grew too soft in your dealings with the Autobot menace.”

It was Megazarak’s turn to scoff as he replied, “With good reason! They grew soft on us as well!”

“By still forbidding us Decepticons to land on Autobot strongholds, and on Cybertron itself when they can land here? By refusing to sign these pathetic peace treaties until we met their precious demands?”

Megazarak curled his servos into fists, wishing more than ever that his leg was in proper functioning mode so he could stand and grab the mech, and throw him into his room while telling him to think over what he had done. 

“Oh, and the demands that we inserted into the preliminaries weren’t unrealistic enou…” 

The ousted leader trailed off as realization hit him. He squinted at the young mech. “It was you that was making those demands.”

How he wanted to smack the smile off Megatron’s faceplates. “Lugnut and Blitzwing were already very loyal. It was only a matter of biding my time until I took over.”

Momentarily forgetting that his leg was hanging on by a small cluster of wires, Megazarak tried to stand, loom over his son, but the aforementioned limb gave out on him with a cacophony of what sounded like snapping. He suppressed a grunt of pain as he fell back onto the floor with a loud, echoing thud. When he twisted his body so he lay on his side, affording him a proper look at his broken leg, he saw it was down to hanging by three thick cables.

Gritting his dentae, Megazarak hissed in pain. A large shadow loomed over him and grew closer as Megatron walked over.

“Leave us.”

The two burly mechs that had dragged him before his son left upon being commanded, and Megatron squatted beside Megazarak.

“It pains me to do this. It really does, Megazarak.”

The injured mech blasted hot, infuriated air from his olfactory vents and turned to glare at the mech beside him as Megatron continued, “I know you and the wretched Autobot Magnus were up to something. And no, I don’t care to know the specifics of what it was. He won’t be able to act, as he’ll be offline soon enough.”

The slap that Megazarak gave Megatron echoed in the receiving room, the sound giving Megazarak some semblance of satisfaction.

Megatron raised a servo to his face and dabbed a bit at the small stream of energon that flowed out from the crack at the edge of his mouthplates, physical evidence of the slap. He frowned and shook his helm, blinking his red optics before resuming. “Don’t worry. He won’t feel a thing, I promise you.”

“Promises from you mean nothing. You  _ will not  _ harm Ultra Magnus. If you do, and if I am dead because you’ve had me taken offline, I will to return from the Well and haunt your Primus-forsaken circuits for the rest of eternity. Believe you me, you wretched spawn.”

“Pfft. I am not going to kill you. You’re full of nothing but empty promises, Megazarak. Really, the only promise you ever fulfilled to me was giving me a roof over my helm and energon when I was extremely vulnerable.”

“What else didn’t I fulfill, then? Tell me.”

“You promised, as I once remember as a young one toddling about your pedes, to lead the Decepticons to victory over the Autobots. That you would smite them from the annals of history, erase any trace of them from the universe at large. Of course, this was before the Autobot slut came into power, effectively distracting you from your end goal.”

Megazarak growled loudly. “Don’t you  _ dare _ talk about him that way.”

“You know, if I hadn’t already felt that you and the Autobot Magnus were something special, this only just confirmed it.” Megatron smirked and stood to his full height, and Megazarak heard him tell someone standing behind him, “Get his leg repaired first, then take him off-world to… well, I don’t have to tell you.”

Defeated, Megazarak could only fixate a hateful glare on the young mech he’d taken care of as his own. He was grabbed by his one functioning leg and dragged out of the room, the visage of Megatron receding until it was hidden behind slamming doors.

.-.-.

The sound of his pedes echoed in the receiving room of his quarters. The steps were slow, calculated as to prevent him from tipping over with the weight of sparkling.

He felt the other mech’s optics on him as he paced back and forth, between the large window and the front door.

“I waited too long to tell you.” He heard Alpha Trion sigh. “But what brings me some solace is the fact that you likely would not have given me a chance.”

Magnus stopped where he was, a few steps from the window, and turned to stare at the High Councilor. He blinked his optics and shook his helm. “Don’t make presumptions on my behalf, Alpha Trion,” he said quietly. He looked down at the gentle curve of his belly and sighed before looking back up at the elder mech’s optics. “How long?”

“Hmm?”

“How long? That you’ve felt this way, I meant.”

The line of Alpha Trion’s lipplates twitched. Then he in-vented and ex-vented heavily. “Would you believe… that it’s been since you held the title of Ultra Minor.”

Ultra  _ Minor _ . Ultra Major. Ultra Prime. And now, Ultra Magnus.

Primus, it indeed had been too long. His processor reeling, Magnus managed to stumble over to the long seat and sat down, barely noticing how Alpha Trion got to his knee joints in front of him in lieu of taking a part of the seat next to him. He closed his optics and pressed the palms of his servos against the covers. “If you had told me then, or even at any time before this moment, I would have had to immediately rebuff your affections.”

“Because even then, I was still a High Councilor.”

“And because you were, and are,” Magnus moved his servos from his optics and reopened them, “the one in charge of selecting the candidates for the position of Magnus, and you have the final say in the appointment of one. There were already rumors being spread that I did something unethical and immoral to gain Powered Convoy’s favor over my fellow Primes at the time. For there to be talk of…” Magnus trailed off, looking away from the other mech.

“If I confessed then and word got out,” Alpha Trion nodded, “I would have ruined you. That is the reason why I held my peace for this long. So even now,” the elder mech rolled his shoulder struts and cleared his vocalizer, “do you still rebuff me?”

Stellar cycles ago it would have been an immediate yes. Magnus’s processor still spun with the weight of the High Councilor’s confession.

There was part of his processor telling him to say “yes.” Another part wanted a chance. But why, he had no idea.

He’d only ever seen Alpha Trion as a sort of a mentor, a distant second from Powered Convoy. A wise and good friend whom he could trust to tell him when he was fragging up. Never as anything more.

But why had he yet to rebuff him, he wondered.

“I know your priority, Ultra Magnus.” Trion nodded in his direction, and suddenly Magnus was aware that he had placed a servo back on the curve of his middle. “So I know that if you wish to give me an answer, it will take a while to decide on it.”

“There are other factors in this, Alpha Trion,” Magnus said hesitantly. “I don’t want to tell you yes or no.”

“There’s a hint of a “however” in there.”

Indeed there was, but Magnus did not want to vocalize any of his concerns or reservations. Magnus sighed heavily and couldn’t keep the helplessness that he felt out of his optics, and off his faceplates, as he looked at Trion.

The sparkling fluttered under his servo.

Alpha Trion let out a heavy ex-vent, got to his pedes slowly, and headed for the door. “I’ve waited these many stellar cycles for a proper time, or a somewhat proper time, to tell you. And I am willing to wait more for your answer, if it so happens that… well, I think you can surmise.”

The unspoken words hung between them. If it so happened that Megazarak never resurfaced.

“But I will say this. If you need help with something, do not hesitate to ask. Please.”

Magnus watched as the other mech left his office, leaving him alone with his own thoughts and the bitlet squirming in his gestation tank. He leaned back in his seat, staring at nothing in particular. Twisting his lipplates, he thought of the repercussions this would have.

If he got Alpha Trion’s hopes up, only to dash them when (“if”, his processor added, though he quickly shot down that train of thought) Megazarak reappeared, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. And even in the instance that it wouldn’t break the Councilor’s spark, it would be far better for him and the sparkling to have the sire with them.

He felt the bitlet shift in his tank with such intensity and force that it made his intakes hitch. When the bitlet settled down, he felt a vague and half-formed consciousness reaching for his over their flickering creator-creation bond. Digits stroking his abdominal plates, Magnus mulled over his words before he spoke. “I know that I’m stressing you out in some form or another, and for that I apologize.”

The sparkling thumped softly against his side.

“I’m not sure what to make of this situation. This would be far easier on the both of us if your sire was around.” Magnus frowned and sighed. “If he were here, my decision would already have been made for me.”

Sparkling thumping and moving, Magnus stayed where he sat with half his attention on the movements of the bitlet, and the other half of his processor occupied with the weight of the last cycle’s events. His spark felt heavy as he processed the confession.

If this was how he felt after only a cycle… he couldn’t begin to imagine how Alpha Trion felt after holding onto this secret for hundreds of thousands of stellar cycles.

What was he doing when he was Ultra Minor? He remembered that he was helping train young, fresh-plated cadets. The memories were so distant that he could hardly remember anything other than that. He did have a memory of meeting the High Council and Powered Convoy for the first time. The only faces that stayed the same in the old memory and the present memory were those of Alpha Trion and Highbrow.

Could that have been the instant that the old Councilor had fallen for him?

There were vague memories of socials where he awkwardly stood to the side or in the shadows, drilling practices where he ordered the cadets to not embarrass him in front of Powered Convoy and the High Council.

But much of Trion’s behavior now made sense.

Magnus frowned and got to his pedes, the motion jostling the bitlet, who kicked lightly at his pelvic strut. After checking to make sure that the front door was locked, he went into his berthroom.

.-.-.

“How’d it go?”

“About as well as one could expect.”

“Says nothin’ ta me, Trion.”

Alpha Trion sighed and looked out the window of his own quarters. “He has the sparkling’s welfare to think of, which is understandable. He said neither yes nor no, merely that there are other factors that come in.”

“Suppose so, yeah. Sorry ya didn’ get a yes.”

“Frankly, I wasn’t expecting one, Kup. I’ve learned to live while loving from afar. I can do that again, though I’d rather not.”

.-.-.

He didn’t remember going into recharge, but when he woke up it was the middle of the night cycle.

Magnus frowned at the ceiling, wondering what had jostled him out of recharge. It couldn’t have been the sparkling, as he was also in recharge, which was a rarity for them to be recharging together. He sat up, sweeping a servo over his faceplates, sighing.

The burning itch in his pelvic plating suddenly registered in his processor.

No matter the amount of times he self-serviced, he would never stop being embarrassed at his actions. Self-servicing made him feel like an adolescent with a gutter for a processor and nothing better to do than send a tingle along his neural net every now and then. Sighing and pressing his thighs together, Magnus kicked off the thermal sheet that covered his frame, hoping that would lessen the heat to a point that he could ignore the burn and go into recharge.

It didn’t work.

Closing his optics in mortification, Magnus reached for the small container of trinkets hidden beneath his berth and pulled out something encased in a long box.

At the time he’d received it, he’d cursed Megazarak upon being told what it was, and swore that he wouldn’t use it. When he’d arrived back at Fortress Maximus, he had thrown it under his berth and had pushed the memory of it to the back of his processor, to resurface only when he thought of how much he wanted the Decepticon’s spike in him.

He tore away the protective seal around the box and opened it. And then cursed Megazarak as he lifted out a perfect replica of the Decepticon warlord’s spike.

Snapping his panel open, Magnus wasted no time in shoving the false spike between his already drenched folds, throwing his helm back and moaning as he snapped his wrist back and forth. Whomever it was that had created the false spike had done a marvelous job at it. He lowered his other servo to his anterior node, though not without a bit of strain, and rubbed his thumb over it.

Overload came very quickly. He tensed up and gasped as he shoved the spike up his valve, the furthest it could go, even as he felt lubricant gush out and trickle onto the berth.

The burn hadn’t subsided.

Frustrated, Magnus pulled the spike out and threw it at the wall opposite him, panting as the traces of his climax faded from his systems.

Words that had been exchanged earlier came to processor. About helping.

Would… was he really thinking of it?

Staring at the mess he’d made of his servos and berth, Magnus got to his pedes and headed to his washracks, wiping away all traces of his self-servcing.

::Alpha Trion?::

A moment of quiet registered on the other end, then a tired reply came. ::Yes? It is the midnight cycle, Ultra Magnus::

Biting down on his lipplate, faceplates heated with embarrassment, Magnus broached the topic quickly as he scrubbed his servos with cleaning fluid. ::I’m sorry. This isn’t a message answering what you had asked of me earlier this solar cycle, or last, as it were.:: Taking a deep breath, he continued. ::This is a request for help. Please, feel free to deny it, but you said you were willing to help me out with my situation, if possible. Does the offer still stand?::

There was a small moment of hesitation from Alpha Trion’s end. Then the reply came. ::The notorious carrier libido is giving you problems, I presume::

Magnus wiped off the cleaning fluid. He wanted to disappear. ::Yes::

A nanoklik later, after tense quiet, the High Councilor replied. ::I’ll be there shortly, Ultra Magnus::

::No, I will go. I will be there shortly::

Cutting off the communication link, Magnus made sure that all traces of both lubricant and cleaning fluid had been wiped off. He closed his optics and sighed, praying that whenever Megazarak showed back up, that he would understand.

He left his quarters, navigating the empty corridors in dim light.

When he came to the High Councilor’s quarters, he steeled himself, and entered his override passcode.


	14. Faithful

Staring at the ceiling of his quarters, Ultra Magnus curled his servos into the thermal sheet and sighed before turning his helm to look at the other mech lying next to him.

It had taken a small while for him to stop being shocked when he woke and found the Senior High Councilor in his berth, or himself in Alpha Trion’s berth. The dull ache between his thighs served as a reminder of why waking up with a mech next to him happened in the first place.

Frowning, he realized he hadn’t felt the bitlet move during the night. He reached out along the creator-creation bond, sending a tentative pulse to the sparkling. His worry was eased when the bitlet squirmed and sent a pulse of delight to his carrier. At least there was nothing to be afraid of, where the sparkling was concerned.

Magnus slid out of berth and slowly got to his pedes, placing a servo on the swell of his belly as he made his way over to his private washracks. He grabbed a cleaning cloth from the small cabinet on the way over and activated the showering system, reaching between his legs with the wet cloth and wiping down the tacky remnants of the previous night cycle.

It was a bit of a struggle, but he managed to clean himself off. After slowly shaking off the droplets of cleaning solvent, he grabbed a dry sheet and wiped himself off as he walked back into his berthroom.

The berth was empty, but the thermal sheet had been changed to a clean one, with the old one stained from last night in a bin designated for to-be-cleaned items located across the room.

He didn’t have much time to feel odd about Trion’s departure, silent and quick as always. He had to report to the medical bay for yet another examination.

The exams began to wear on him. They were the same as always, and at his previous one he had asked Red Alert if they were really necessary at this point, but she had replied that with his “advanced” age (he really wasn’t _that_ advanced in age) that it was best to be safe rather than sorry.

.-.-.

“Do you realize what you’ve done?”

Sighing heavily, Magnus shook his helm. “Tell me Red Alert,” Magnus’s intakes hitched as the bitlet shoved an arm into his intakes. He winced and continued, “how badly have I fragged up this time around?”

He watched as the medic busied herself with rummaging around the room, scoffing. “I can’t believe you, getting into a relationship with another mech while you’re sparked and as far as we know, the other creator of your sparkling is alive. And I cannot believe you didn’t tell me sooner. Decacycles already?”

“We are not in a relationship, Red Alert.”

“Have you told him that?”

“I have.”

“No. Have you actually told him that? Have you made it a point to emphasize that this... whatever it is, is purely for the health and growth of the bitlet, and that you are not interested in a relationship?”

Magnus said nothing, only staring at Red Alert. His jaw hardened and he looked down.

The medic stopped her rummaging around and sat on the berth next to him, and he heard her talk after a period of silence. “I have known Alpha Trion for even longer than you have actually been a ranked officer in the Guard, sir. So, I think a know a thing or two about how he can be.”

Worst-case scenarios sprung into the Magnus’s processor. He closed his optics and sighed in defeat. “Oh Primus. Don’t tell me-”

“He isn’t a terrible mech. No. Far from it. But he does have his flaws as we all do, sir. And one of his flaws is that he can get his hopes up a bit too quickly. And, when they are dashed, he retreats into himself for a long while.”

“What do you mean by that? That he “retreats into himself”?”

“What that means is that he closes himself off and won’t let anyone near him for a long while. And I don’t know if you had noticed then, but the first time you and the Council went to meet with Megazarak, Trion came back acting slightly hostile.”

Magnus furrowed his optic ridges, thinking back seven stellar cycles.

“If you need something to prove it,” Red Alert said, “look at anything he dictated and had signed around that time, and compare it with… I don’t know, something a little more recent. Just before you got sparked. The word choice is different, and he is slightly less verbose when he is irritated and dejected.”

“I’ve never noticed that. But I should keep an optic out for it, if that is the case.”

“This is normally where I would say that I would slap you upside the helm if you break his spark, but since you’re currently carrying I’ll have to refrain. But I will stick you with needles a little harder than necessary if you do such a thing. Alpha Trion has been around since almost the beginning of Cybertron. He’s seen and been through too much. You don’t need to add to everything that weighs his spark down. At least, any more than what you’ve already added.”

Magnus sighed and looked down again. He laughed bitterly. “I’ve severely fragged up, haven’t I?”

Red Alert said nothing. She only got to her pedes again and walked away from the berth.

There was silence as she opened a drawer and began looking around for something, muttering to herself at a low volume so Magnus couldn’t catch what she was saying. He simply watched her move from drawer to drawer, becoming slightly more agitated as she couldn’t find whatever it was that she was questing for.

“Red Alert?”

“Yes, you’ve fragged up. As have I. I can’t find the datapad with your information on it. Swear I must have…” The medic trailed off and furrowed her optical ridges before she sighed. “It has to be in the office. I’ll be back.”

His optics followed the medic as she briskly walked out of the room, pedesteps fading slowly as she reached her office. He looked at the ceiling and closed his optics.

“GET BACK HERE!”

Magnus reopened his optics at the sound of the bellow that he wouldn’t have recognized as Red Alert, if it hadn’t come from her office.

A trio of frames bolted past the open doorway to the medical ward, and a moment later Magnus realized what had just happened. He placed his helm in his servos.

.-.-.

“The carrier of one of the cadets runs a moderately popular gossip blog, and had offered her daughter credits and a new frame and paint finish if she could dig something up about an Elite guard cadet. The cadet immediately thought that she would be the one to release the first images of you in your current state, alongside naming the sire.”

Magnus looked away from the window in the social room of his quarters to the High Councilor standing a few paces to his side, looking apologetic. He adjusted himself on the seat he had drawn up to the window and curled his servos into fists.

After the cadets had fled Red Alert’s office upon being caught, Fortress Maximus had gone under lockdown, and the trio were found hiding in their barracks even after Kup had ordered them all to the field for a roll call.

Thankfully, Red Alert’s datapad containing his information hadn’t been in her office after all – she’d found it in the mess of her subspace after everything was said and done. If it had been, they could have run off with it, even though there was no mention of Megazarak’s designation on there. All they would have found was “[REDACTED].”

She’d ordered him to his quarters and told him to wait there and busy himself with something, so he wouldn’t be thinking about worst-case scenarios.

Of course, it was far easier said than done.

“Why were the messages not intercepted?”

Alpha Trion shifted on his pedes. “There were no messages to be intercepted. The cadet went home to her creators for the half a decacycle of leave that she signed up for and while there she was asked if she could dig up any damming information about any of the Elite Guard higher-ups. With you having addressed the Elite Guard about your carrying cycle, exposing you was the first and only thing she thought of.”

Magnus huffed. “How did they get as far as First Aid’s office?”

Alpha Trion sighed and ran a servo over his faceplates. “They happened to know the guard stationed at the entrance. He was very easily swayed to look the other way. Thank Primus that…”

“That what?” Magnus tilted his helm slightly to the side, prompting the High Councilor to continue.

“Thank Primus that I had told Red Alert to erase _his_ designation from your patient file. I reasoned that something like this had a chance of happening. I’ve never been more upset to have been right.”

Magnus crossed his arms over his chassis. From there forth, there was only one course of action left to take. He turned back to the window, looking out at the cityscape of Iacon.

After a few moments of silence, Alpha Trion broke it. “Ultra Magnus, I know you’re thinking of something. What is it?”

“I’m not sure you’ll be happy to hear it.”

“I wasn’t exactly happy to hear of this situation, among others, so you might as well say what is on your processor.”

Giving a quiet laugh, Magnus said, “Fine. At this point, it stands that the only way that we can control this before it gets further out of our servos is for me to confirm to Cybertron as a whole that I am carrying.”

In the window he could see a faint reflection of Alpha Trion. Magnus noted the contemplative look cross the elder mech’s faceplates. It was strange, he thought, but ever since they had begun their liaisons, he had realized that he took a great deal of comfort in the presence of the elder High Councilmech.

Perhaps it was why he hadn’t worried himself to the point where he needed a sedative, just as when the incident with Shotter had occurred.

“If and when you tell Cybertron that their Magnus is carrying,” Alpha Trion began to say hesitantly, clearly mulling over what he was going to say next, “then you will need to name someone as the sire of your sparkling.” He pinched his nasal ridge between two of his digits and closed his optics. “She stated that she and the two cadets that accompanied her were looking specifically for any mention of the sire. And like the former Cadet, they excitedly began asking who the sire was.”

“Why should they know? What business-”

“The sooner you name an Autobot as the sire of your sparkling, the sooner these poorly executed attempts at ruining your name will stop, or cease being so frequent.”

“Fine. You make a point. Though…”

“Though?”

“The only ones I can think to name as sire of my sparkling are Red Alert and… well, you.”

Alpha Trion furiously shook his helm. “Don’t you dare drag Red Alert into this, Ultra Magnus. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Magnus got off the seat and walked over to the other mech, taking one of his servos into his. “Neither do you.”

An expression crossed the older mech’s faceplates, almost as if he were going to agree but then thought better of it. “Think of it this way, Ultra Magnus. We have been seen together by the cadets at this point. I was present when you gave your speech confirming that you were carrying a sparkling. I think the revelation that I “sired” your sparkling would take most everyone in the Guard and out of it off of your tracks. It’s more believable than placing the blame on Red Alert.”

Magnus sighed and looked away from the High Councilor.

“What is it?”

“If I had never… with Megazarak…,” Magnus didn’t miss how the namedrop made Trion’s lipplates tighten, “but it’s done now. Besides the welfare of the sparkling, I am now worried about how your reputation will be in shambles once you are named the sire.”

He could see the look of contemplation, then resignation that crossed Alpha Trion’s faceplates. The High Councilor ex-vented heavily and said, “Whatever scandal arises when it gets out that the Senior High Councilor sparked up the Magnus of Cybertron will pale in comparison to what would occur if the real truth ever got out.”

Trion was right. Magnus closed his optics and nodded in assent. He sighed.

If he hadn’t gone to Alpha Trion that night, decacycles prior, the High Councilor wouldn’t have been dragged into the situation.

But it was a done deal, just as it had been with Megazarak. The sparkling sticking his digits in Magnus’s intakes, tickling them, was proof enough.

Still holding onto the elder mech’s servo, Magnus gently pulled Trion toward his berthroom and nudged him to lie down on the berth, climbing over the other mech and opening his panel.

Upon seeing the Magnus’s wet valve, Trion opened his own panel and closed his optics as he felt one of the larger mech’s servos wrap around his stiffening spike. Magnus stroked it to full length a few times before sinking down on it, moaning softly as he rolled his hips.

It didn’t last very long, however, as a sudden surge of pain shot up his spinal strut and his pelvic strut couldn’t seem to move. He stopped his motions and opened optics he had forgotten he’d closed, gaze meeting the confused one of the mech laid out beneath him.

“Are you-” Alpha Trion began to say, before Magnus shook his helm.

“No I’m not, something… I can’t seem to move myself.” Magnus felt heat rise into his faceplates and he brought a servo up to his optics, covering them in embarrassment. He felt the High Councilor move out from under him and gentle servos helped move him into a lying down position. The change in stance freed him, made him able to move again.

He looked for the other mech after noticing that he wasn’t lying next to him or standing next to his berth, and saw Alpha Trion getting between his spread legs, lining his spike up with his valve. The tip of the spike bumped against his anterior node, eliciting a soft groan from Magnus as he felt the entire length slip in. He leaned his helm back as the mech above him set a slow and gentle pace.

.-.-.

There was no open window in the cell for him to look out of.

What he wouldn’t give to be able to see the stars, imagine one of them was Cybertron, and that Ultra was looking back at him. He had to be wondering where he was.

What he wouldn’t give to be back with Ultra, to be able to hold the Magnus in his arms again.

The cell was small and dark, with barely enough room for him to move around in. Only the light coming from his optics served as his source of illumination in the instances that no one was opening the pitifully small window in the door and throwing a sealed energon cube ration through the bars.

It was a pitifully small ration as well, nowhere near enough to power a mech of his stature. What helped was that he limited his movements in the cell and shut down most of his systems and running processes, save for the basic ones that kept him alive. It still barely kept him fed.

There was nothing he could do about the situation he was in, except hope that the Pit-spawn known as his son would have a change of spark. However, the chances of that happening, after Primus-knew how long he’d spent in the cell, were very low.

Megazarak shifted around on the floor and sighed, staring at the ceiling. Through the dim light of his optics he noticed the thin, web-like cracks in the ceiling and walls.

Briefly he wondered if the walls of the prison were weak enough that he might be able to break out of it.

Then he remembered that his weapons systems had been deactivated. Only the shady medic that had seen him after he had been processed into the prison would be able to tap into his systems and reactivate them.

He heard the faint echo of pedesteps heading down the corridor. Given that he had been given his energon ration only about a cycle ago (at least, he believed it was a cycle ago) he didn’t think anything of it. Perhaps a checkup on another prisoner.

Blinding light from the hallway hit his faceplates at the cover of the window was slid aside and something small pushed between two of the bars. It landed on his chassis with a loud thunking noise.

“What-”

“Lord Megatron ordered this delivered to you,” said the unknown bot on the other side, before they closed the cover and plunged Megazarak into darkness once more.

It was a very small datapad, the screen glowing a dim blue, and a button slowly flashing green. He pressed his tiny digit on the button, as his usual digit was too wide for it, and read the message that flashed on the screen.

_You thought he loved you? Did you think he was faithful to you?_

_You were mistaken._

_-Megatron_

His processor tried to surmise what Megatron was saying, wondering who it was that he could have been referring to.

And then it hit him.

He shook his helm, refusing to believe what the message said. He closed the message and was shocked to find himself looking at a still capture of Ultra, standing a good distance away from whomever it was that had taken the photo.

The swollen middle was new. His spark began hammering in its casing.

Could it… had he been sparked since just before their argument? Had he changed his processor?

He had! Otherwise he wouldn’t... he was carrying. He had to have changed his mind.

Megazarak touched the screen with his digits and was surprised when the still capture began moving. It was a video clip.

Ultra’s voice always seemed to calm him, but this time around it did nothing to calm the anxiety in his spark as he listened to mech speak.

He was carrying. That much was evident, and he confirmed it.

_“-had a night of indiscretion, where my sparkling was conceived. However, to alleviate the attempts to break into the medical facility to obtain information, it has been decided that the sire of my sparkling should be revealed, as for some reason this seems to be of great concern among many. The sire of my sparkling-”_

It was him. It had to be him. Who else-

_“-is Senior High Councilor and advisor to the Magnus, Alpha Trion.”_

Rewinding the clip a few moments, Megazarak listened again. To the name that was not his, being named the sire of the sparkling that his mate carried.

Ultra continued to talk, but it faded to background noise. He didn’t listen to Ultra’s words past the name of the other mech, the one that was definitely not him.

The datapad slipped from his grip. When it landed on the floor, a crack snaked across the screen.


	15. Nevermind

_Are you going to meet with me tonight?_

_-MZ_

_I will not be able to; I have fallen ill with something. I have been unable to sleep properly as of late, and it is not a good idea that I pilot a shuttle by myself when I haven’t gotten proper recharge, nor when there is a chance that I can get sick. My apologies._

_-UM_

_I understand completely. However, I will still miss you greatly, my love. Perhaps a voice call is in order? I would like to hear you speak, at least._

_-MZ_

_As tempting as the prospect is, I am going to retire to bed early._

_-UM_

_May I at least speak with you for a bit before so?_

_-MZ_

_Fine. But you are not allowed to get mad at me if I fall into recharge while on call with you._

_-UM_

_I doubt I could get angry at you for anything. I love you dearly, remember? Light of my spark and my life cycle, my salvation and my destruction._

_-MZ_

_As flattered as I am, I don’t know whether I should be swooning, or embarrassed at your poor attempt at poetry._

_-UM_

_Oh, just think. After this is all over, you will have to listen to this on a constant basis._

_-MZ_

_Thank you for warning me so I will make sure to be emotionally prepared. Tell me – what do you imagine for our life, post-war?_

_-UM_

_I like to imagine our life after the war has ended as one of tranquility. I greatly like the idea of us retiring to a quiet place, on Cybertron or elsewhere, settling down and raising sparklings. Our solar cycles would be filled with peace, after eons of enduring war._

_-MZ_

_Strike the idea of sparklings from what you just told me, and that is what I hope for my future, post-war. I’ve never had an inclination to raise any._

_-UM_

_Why? Why don’t you want to raise sparklings?_

_-MZ_

_I can’t believe I have to explain myself to you, but it serves me right as I should have addressed this ages ago. I don’t want sparklings because my younglinghood was rough, as you know. I don’t think I have the patience for sparklings, and I’m afraid of inflicting the same treatment that I received on any sparkling I might have. Also, I don’t know if you have noticed, but I’m extremely occupied with my position._

_-UM_

_It would be after you leave office, Ultra. And you would be a wonderful, gentle, and caring creator. I know it._

_-MZ_

_I could also repeat what my carrier and sire did to me. It is a risk I don’t want to take. And my question to you is – why do you want sparklings? I was under the impression that Decepticons viewed sparklings as undesirable._

_-UM_

_Decepticons don’t hold a high view of sparklings and carriers because most of us were raised around war and battle. Sparklings cannot defend themselves and use up more resources than fully matured mechs and femmes do. Carriers use up medical resources and need high quantities of energon, which is limited, to keep the sparkling. That is why._

_-MZ_

_Regardless of the reasons, I do not intend on raising sparklings. You haven’t answered my question, Megazarak. Why do you want sparklings?_

_-UM_

_I… feel that I did a disservice to Megatron. I should have been a better adoptive sire to him than I was, and I have the hope that having sparklings of my own will force me to be better to them than I was to him. A second chance. That’s what I want, and I want it with you._

_-MZ_

_Megazarak, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but sparklings are not an experiment. They are living beings. If you feel that you could have done better in raising Megatron, that is your right to feel that way. But do not drag me into this. I want no part in sparklings. Would you have me get sparked? I know you don’t possess a carrying chamber. I do. Were you planning on trying to do this without my permission?_

_-UM_

_Ultra, please don’t twist my words. I would never make you do something that you don’t want. I am only upset. There is no bot that I want sparklings with more than I do with you._

_-MZ_

_I don’t believe this. Do you hear yourself? I feel that you’re trying to make me change my processor. If the time ever comes that I want to change it, it will be of my own volition. As much as I love you, I will not let you dictate what I do with my frame._

_I am going to berth now before I get even more upset. Good night._

_-UM_

_Ultra, I adore you even more than the prospect of having sparklings. Though it does pain me, I am willing to abandon the issue if it means that I get to be with you; I am not willing to give you up. That is, if you still want me. I know you are mad at me right now, but please contact me again when you have calmed down. I am sorry. And please remember that I love you very, very much._

_-MZ_

.-.-.

“Stop looking at that.”

Ultra Magnus looked up at Alpha Trion with a genuinely confused expression on his faceplates. “Stop looking at what?”

The High Councilor sighed heavily and snatched the holo-pad from the other mech’s servos and turned so the screen faced him and the text was read from left to right. Magnus blushed as he realized that the answer should have been so obvious. “I know you’re accessing the Grid and looking for any news pertaining to, well, us.”

Shifting where he sat on the berth, the carrying mech hissed as the sparkling shoved his little legs into his intakes. “I can’t help it, Trion. It’s outrageous, the lies that they try to spin. In the decacycles that have passed they’ve spun stories about our stellar-cycles long love affair.”

“As I have said before,” the High Councilor shut off the datapad and placed it on a nearby table, “be grateful that they do not know, and no one seems to have an inkling to think, that _he_ could be the sire of your sparkling. You also don’t need the additional stress. You have, how long… a decacycle left?”

“Unfortunately.” Magnus groaned and placed his helm in his servos, just the bitlet kicked him again. He tried his hardest to not think of the fact that he was in the final stretch of his carrying cycle.

Stellar cycles ago he had been wracked with anxiety over the ceremony that declared him Magns of Cybertron and Commander of the Autobots. He remembered being restless the night cycle prior, pacing his newly assigned quarters and eventually sitting at the window of the social room, staring at the stars and trying to find certain stars and constellations. That ceremony was only about a cycle long, however. And he could have bowed out of it if he had wished, though it was ill-advised.

The emergence cycle would be longer than a cycle, and he had no other option than to go through with it. The sparkling had to come out, after all.

Tiny servos pressed against his front from the inside, and Magnus lowered his servos to stroke the curvature of his belly. As always the motions calmed the bitlet, and he settled down, the intensity and frequency of the fluttering decreasing.

It was then that he noticed that Alpha Trion was looking at him curiously. Magnus met his optics and said in a quiet voice that was still louder than a whisper, “I’m terrified of it.”

A small smile crossed the High Councilor’s faceplates and he nodded once. “At the very least, we live now and not in a more ancient time, where medicine was still a fledgling and unrefined practice. You are extremely lucky that there is a trained medic on the premises who will do everything she can to make sure the emergence sequence is as smooth as possible.”

Red Alert had been extremely excited the past solar cycle, when she had discovered that the sparkling was in the optimal birthing position. While it had become a lot easier for Magnus to get out of berth and go about his day, when he stood and walked the sparkling felt a lot heftier than previously.

Then he had looked in a mirror, finally, and saw that when the sparkling had dropped, his swollen middle had dropped as well.

Magnus nodded. “I don’t know what I would do without Red Alert. At least I will have her to rely on when I go into emergence.” He fell quiet for a few moments, then without thinking he continued, “Now if only I could have…”

It was then that he realized what he was about to say, and then shut his mouth. However, the look on the High Councilor’s faceplates told him that Alpha Trion knew exactly what he had meant. He cleared his vocalizer awkwardly and racked his processor in search of something to distract the other mech. Before he thought of something to say, Alpha Trion beat him to it.

“What happens, Ultra, with us?”

Magnus blinked his optics at the sound of his true designation. Only Megazarak had ever called him that – and it was odd hearing his name said by another mech.

“I don’t know.”

Alpha Trion stared at him for a few moments in quiet before he sighed. “That is the first time in recent memory that I’ve heard you admit to not knowing something. I had hoped that you would have decided on something by now, Ultra Magnus.”

“I’m sorry. I have tried and tried to decide what I should do concerning this arrangement we have, but…”

“But?” The Senior High Councilor made a motion with his servo for his commander to continue.

Magnus let out the breath he had no idea he had been holding. “I… I do love you deeply.” He reached out and held one of the smaller mech’s servos in his. “I have known you longer than I did him, but the sparkling needs both his carrier and sire around. They both need to know each other.”

Alpha Trion looked down, and the expression on his faceplates drove home the fact that Magnus felt he’d made a big mistake.

But when Megazarak returned and saw him with their sparkling, deep in the affections of another mech, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself; he knew the exact face that the Decepticon would make. It would break his spark, the same way that Alpha Trion’s expression did.

Either way, he was out of luck. He was fragged at each turn.

“So. This is it, then.” The servo Magnus held in his own retracted and went to its owner’s side, hanging limply.

There was no trace of anger in Alpha Trion’s statement. Magnus had a thought that it would have been better that Trion yell at him or storm out of his room, claim that he would never want to see him again. But he knew that that was not how Alpha Trion operated. When he was angry, it was quiet, but still discernable.

No. This wasn’t anger, at least that he could tell. This was emotional pain.

“I’m sorry.” Magnus couldn’t help the way his voice cracked between those two words.

Alpha Trion shook his helm once. “Don’t, please. I know you acted in the interest of your sparkling. It’s my fault for getting my hopes up and thinking…” The elder mech trailed off and shook his helm again. “Nevermind what it was that I was thinking.”

Magnus stared. “No. Tell me.”

“It matters none now. I, um, had come to see you as something more personal than the Magnus of Cybertron. I will still be here if you need something in the next few solar cycles, until your sparkling,” he nodded at Magnus, “emerges. But once it is done and over with, we will resume what we once were.”

Ultra felt his spark twist at the High Councilor’s words, finding himself more distraught at the words that had been exchanged than he thought he would have been.

“Before I leave, I just remembered that I have something I meant to give to you.”

Magnus watched as the older mech slipped a servo into his subspace and brought it out with something that glowed brightly clutched in his grip. The freed servo reached out and gently grabbed one of his, bringing out with the palm up so the object was easily deposited into Magnus’s servo.

“You are not from Iacon, if I remember correctly.”

“No,” Magnus replied, shaking his helm once. “I hail from the Hydrax Plateau.”

“Then you wouldn’t know. It’s an Iaconian tradition,” Trion said quietly, “to give a cluster of crystals from the Gardens to a loved one. The type matters not – it can be romantic, platonic, or familial. I asked for this to be cut off and joined together because the colors match those of your armor plating.”

The Magnus held the cluster of crystals up to optic-level, noting that most of the crystals were varying shades of blue, with small bits of pearlescent white and almost-clear crystals thrown in.

“I was going to give it to you after you delivered your sparkling, but I think right now is a far better time than any other time.”

“I… it’s beautiful.” Blue optics wrought with pain and regret met optics full of exhaustion and defeat. “Thank you.”

Alpha Trion nodded, and Magnus noted how the servo that had held onto his reached for him again. Slowly, the tips of Trion’s digits touched his chin and slipped under, gently holding his helm. The High Councilor looked into his optics, as if asking for permission. He nodded and closed his optics.

The kiss that Alpha Trion gave him was even more gentle than the ones that Megazarak would give him. And he kicked himself for still thinking of the Decepticon warlord, even then. He felt Trion pull back and begin to walk away, but he kept his optics closed as he waited for the sound of the door to his quarters close behind the other mech.

When the doors closed, he opened his optics and looked down at the small cluster of blue and clear crystals in his servos. They were so bright that they pushed back the darkness of his room, glowing brilliantly.

He thought about setting it on the windowsill, but he quashed that line of thought and cradled the crystals in his palms as he slowly got to his pedes and headed for his berthroom. Instead, he set the crystals on the berthside table and sat down, staring at it.

For a moment he hated Alpha Trion for daring to give him such a thing, a symbol of his love. It would have made this a lot easier on him if the crystals hadn’t been given to him.

A message from Red Alert asking for permission to enter his quarters arrived in his inbox. He sent back a message allowing her in. He heard the door open, and he prepared himself for the medic to barge in with some sort of new information on a datapad that he would need.

So he was surprised when he saw Red come in with Highbrow and Botanica.

The sight unsettled him greatly.

“We’re sorry to barge in this late at night, sir,” Botanica began, optics full of some emotion that Magnus couldn’t put a name on, “you need to know this. It’s urgent.”

“What is it?”

Highbrow held a datapad in his servos that he then held out towards him. Magnus’s index digit traced the crack on the screen as he heard the mech say, “It regards Megazarak.”


	16. Last Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please heed the newly added tag to this story.**

_Loneliness had settled in his frame the moment the worst betrayal he’d known had been revealed – and he hadn’t known that it could be so heavy. He lost track of time. For all he knew, he had probably been stuck in the prison for decacycles. Pit, if it were actually a stellar cycle, it wouldn’t have surprised him at that point._

_It had been a long while since he’d lost count of how many times he’d stared at the still capture of Ultra on the datapad. His spark ached and his processor ran amok with questions of “Why?”_

_Why had he done this?_

_Had he led him along all this time?_

_He couldn’t fathom it. The Ultra Magnus that he knew would never have done this to him._

_Megazarak stroked the screen once more with his digits, sighing as the capture began to move – he’d started the video, and listened dully to the words that his beloved spoke. His optics wandered down to the prominent swell of Ultra’s belly, unable to believe that Ultra could have done that to him._

_Primus was cruel. Primus had given a sparkling to the one he loved, that was not of his coding._

_If he ever got out of here, he wondered what he might do. Would he just cut Ultra off? Never send the mech a message again and pine for him from afar? Or would he send Ultra a final message, telling him that he was so betrayed but that he hoped that he was happy with the one he had decided to have a sparkling with?_

_Or would the final message be an angry one?_

_No. No… he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that to Ultra, no matter what he had done to him._

“-night of indiscretion, where my sparkling was conceived. However, to alleviate the attempts to break into the medical facility to obtain information, it has been decided that the sire of my sparkling should be revealed, as for some reason this seems to be of great concern among many. The sire of my sparkling… is Senior High Councilor and advisor to the Magnus, Alpha Trion.”

_Megazarak thought of the mech that had stolen his beloved’s spark enough to spark him up. The mech had always looked at him with contempt, and he never could figure out why – other than the obvious, which was that they were on differing factions. Perhaps… perhaps Ultra had been with the mech before._

_Perhaps when they had had their argument about sparklings, the other Autobot had swooped in and stolen Ultra’s spark again, convinced him that his processor should change._

_The video ended. Megazarak sighed and replayed the video for a final time. A final time, before he would destroy the datapad he held as a first step to forget the past seven stellar cycles that he had been led along._

_But something in his processor told him to listen closely to Ultra’s speech, when he made his big revelation. So he forwarded the video to the point where Ultra named the sire of his sparkling._

“The sire of my sparkling… is Senior High Councilor and advisor to the Magnus, Alpha Trion.”

**_There._ **

_There it was. The pause between words, and the in-vent and ex-vent that preceded and succeeded it, just before Ultra lied through his dentae. And he noted that the pause was much longer and even over video, seemed so much heavier._

_It was a lie. The other mech, the High Councilor Alpha Trion, wasn’t the sire of the sparkling that Ultra carried._

_Megazarak leaned his helm back against the wall and laughed to himself. Oh, Primus was an incredibly cruel god, weren’t they?_

_He would finally have his greatest wish. But there was a chance that he would not live to see it realized._

_The ousted Decepticon warlord looked at the datapad in his servo and after a brief period of thought and a final play through of the video clip, erased it. After checking the properties on the software, making sure there were no bugs (he knew most, if not all, the tricks that could be played), he activated the small camera on the back._

_His optics were nearly blinded by the dim light that it emitted. In-venting deeply, and taking a klik to gather his thoughts, Megazarak pressed the “record” function._

.-.-.

_The light that shone in his optics receded and blinked away, and Magnus pressed the back of his servo against his lipplates, concentrating all his efforts in not passing out. After he reoriented himself, he muttered, “This isn’t going to do, Red Alert. I need an answer. There’s something that’s sapping my energy reserves.”_

_Red Alert arched an optical ridge and placed a servo on her hip, the other one holding onto the thin flashlight. “You have been getting at least the minimum amount of recharge, have you?”_

_“Lately, yes. Or at least, I have been trying to. I am in a very demanding position, after all.” Magnus closed his optics, sighed, and reopened them. “Recharge is almost a foreign concept.”_

_“Alright, because previously the reason why you were feeling like this was because you were pulling all-nighters, sir.” The medic brought out a scanning wand and passed it over Magnus’s frame once, then a second time, before downloading the results onto an empty datapad. “You might be the Magnus but even the Magnus needs rechar…”_

_The medic’s sentence trailed off, and Magnus watched as confusion, then comprehension, dawned on the medic’s faceplates. He didn’t like the particular type of comprehension that crossed her faceplates – it set him on edge._

_“Red?”_

_The medic cleared her vocalizer twice, opening her mouth between clearings as if trying to decide whether or not she should talk._

_“Red Alert?” he asked again, worry in his voice, wondering exactly what it was that she was trying to hide._

_“Were you planning on telling me that you were seeing someone, sir?”_

_Magnus bristled at the (albeit very correct) assumption and the knowing tone in her voice. His park hammered in its casing. “I don’t think that aspect of my life is your business.”_

_“No, I understand that. However,” she handed him the datapad she held in her servos, “I’m not sure if I should tell you “congratulations” based on these recent findings.”_

_“Recent… findings? What do you-”_

_“You’re sparked, sir.”_

_His servos tightened their grip on the datapad he’d been handed. He had to have heard incorrectly. Blinking, he said, “Repeat that again.”_

_Red Alert pursed her lipplates. “You’re sparked. And it looks older than a decacycle at this point. I’ll need to run another test to – wait, sir, where are you going?”_

_Magnus was on his pedes and out the door as he said, “I need to think about what to do,” and ran for his quarters._

_Sparked. He was_ sparked _._

_The only thought on his processor was that Megazarak would have been absolutely elated to be there with him. He would have been so elated to hear the news._

_As for him? He had no idea what to think of it._

.-.-.

“How does this relate to Megazarak?” Magnus looked at the three bots critically, holding the cracked datapad in his servo. He noted how the three of them looked between each other, holding a quiet conversation with their optics.

Highbrow was the first to speak.

“Earlier this solar cycle,” Highbrow began, and Magnus noted how the Intelligence Officer didn’t want to meet his optics, “some of our intel officers intercepted messages between Decepticons on the planet Thrull and New Kaon. They expressed an urgent need to leave the planet. When no life signs were found nearby Thrull, scouts were sent in to check out the planet. This is one of the things that was found.”

Magnus looked back down at the datapad, his reflection marred by the webbed crack that crossed the dark screen. “What was on Thrull? We’ve never had Autobots set pede on there, have we?”

“No we haven’t. This was the first time that we sent scouts, and it will be the last time we’ll send them.”

“What do you-”

Botanica cut in and answered, “Thrull was destroyed.”

Magnus blinked his optics. Had he heard correctly? “Destroyed?”

Sighing, the Councilor femme responded, “The entire planet was destroyed soon after they got there and scouted the area. Of the five that went, three survived to bring this to us.”

Looking down again at his broken reflection on the datapad screen, Magnus swiped his digit over the activating button, and was greeted with a dim screen with the words “ _To: Ultra_ ” and text that demanded a passcode. It was nine characters long, so naturally he input the name of his beloved, as it was exactly nine characters long.

An error message greeted him and he grumbled to himself. When it brought him back to the login screen, a new set of text had appeared underneath the passcode box.

_The first, and most beautiful sight, we ever did see._

“Is there any reason why Thrull was destroyed, Highbrow? Did you order it to be done?”

The mech scoffed, indignant. “Primus above, no. What do you take me for? I’m not exactly keen on breaking the terms of the ceasefire agreement we have.” Highbrow shook his helm. “We don’t know, but we can only guess that it was the Decepticons that were destroying their own planet. When our scouts arrived they saw a deserted planet with only a large and sprawling prison that could be seen from its atmosphere. They entered the prison and began to scout it, picking up anything that might’ve been found in the area. And among them, the datapad you hold in your servos.”

Magnus looked back down at the datapad, with its hint about the first and beautiful sight they ever saw.

“The note of who this datapad is meant for is what gives us reason to believe that Megazarak was being held there on Thrull,” he was faintly aware of Botanica’s voice saying.

The first… and beautiful sight that they saw.

He remembered glowing crystals and an exploding star, the start of their affair in the physical sense. He could still feel Megazarak’s digits in him, working and wringing a passionate overload from his frame.

All while the star exploded above them.

His digits tapped in the word. S-U-P-E-R-N-O-V-A.

The login screen faded, and the sight that greeted him was that of his beloved. The same red optics looked at him, defeated, but with a small glimmer of hope. Magnus gasped quietly and reached out, digits touching the datapad and again stroking his digit along the crack in the damaged screen.

“It’s you,” he whispered to the image of Megazarak on the screen. The Decepticon warlord seemed to be looking right at him as well, gazing into his very spark.

He didn’t know where the mech was recording this, but just by the darkness that surrounded his frame he knew that it wasn’t a good place to be. It then hit him that Megazarak was in the prison on Thrull. The frame on the screen moved, and he heard the sigh that always preceded a long statement.

_“It’s been a Pit of a time not hearing from you. I know it was deserved, but I feel so guilty knowing that our final words were what they were._

_I don’t know if that final message I sent you, about you contacting me again, went through. I waited decacycles to hear back from you, and I would have waited more. But… well I’m certain you can deduce what’s happened. Betrayal in the ranks. I shouldn’t be surprised._

_If you’re hearing this on this datapad, Ultra, and I am not standing next to you,”_ Megazarak paused and Magnus waited for the next words to come, _“that means that I no longer function. That means my escape attempt was my last and didn’t succeed. I’ve come to peace with the fact that by this time in the next solar cycle I might not be alive. Did I deserve this? I don’t know. Perhaps it’s my penance for neglecting those that I shouldn’t have. Or perhaps it’s just how I was always supposed to meet my end._

_There is one thing I don’t think I’ll be able to come to terms with, and that is the fact that I won’t be able to see you or hear you before I go, if I do._

_I’ve heard some rumors. And I was shown a video feed of you giving a speech to your Elite Guard. I know that you’re carrying._

_When I was first told about it, I felt betrayed. But then I noticed that small sequence of in-vent, pause, and then ex-vent. It took me a solar cycle, but when I noticed it, I laughed and cursed Primus. The sparkling is mine, isn’t it? I know it is. And if not, you’ll eventually find me in the afterlife eating my own leg struts._

_The universe is cruel. The one thing I wanted the most was to have a family with you, including sparklings, but that was the one thing you didn’t want in your life cycle._

_I wonder. What made you want to keep it? I’m not there with you. You could have terminated your carrying cycle, and I would never have been the wiser. You had all the power in your servos to do so. And you still kept our sparkling._

_Oh, who am I joking. I won’t get an answer._

_Primus, it causes me so much pain that I won’t get to be there for you both. Let our sparkling know that sire loves them, will you? I hope they come out looking like you, for your safety’s sake. I’m sorry I won’t be there. You shouldn’t have to do this alone. I’m so, so sorry, Ultra. I’d give anything to be able to hear your voice and see your faceplates one last time._

_I’d also give anything to be able to see our sparkling at least once, and tell them to take it easy on you. I’d sing praises of you to them, tell them that they have the greatest carrier that one could ask for._

_And my last words to you are: Please don’t grieve me too long. Our affair may have only been seven stellar cycles out of the thousands that I’ve lived, but they were the best seven stellar cycles of my life. You still have your entire life cycle ahead of you. I don’t want you to spend all of it grieving me._

_I love you. And I’ll always be with you.”_

Silence filled the room as Magnus kept staring down at the datapad, servos holding the device with more strength than necessary. He blinked once, twice, then in-vented and ex-vented.

No.

He couldn’t be…

Processor refusing to entertain the notion, Magnus closed his optics, tightened his grip on the datapad, and asked, “Was there any trace of Megazarak found on Thrull, before it was destroyed?”

Highbrow looked apprehensive, as if pondering his words, before he simply shook his helm. He in-vented and ex-vented. “No. There was no trace of Megazarak found on the surface, and there wasn’t enough time to search the entirety of the prison.”

“Then tell me this – were there at least… signs of a struggle? Did he escape, or try to escape at least?”

Botanica cleared her vocalizer. “From the little information we have gathered, there was. There were gouges consistent with claws on some of the walls, and one scout reported that they saw a broken frame of what seemed to be a guard leaning against a door.”

“So Megazarak fought his way out, then.”

“That we don’t know, Ultra Magnus. There were no signs of him ever leaving the planet in the time before and the time during that our scouts were on Thrull.”

“Please. There had to have been something. Has any bot said that they’ve seen even someone that looks like him?”

The heavy silence that met his plea and looks of pity that Highbrow, Botanica, and Red Alert gave him were his answer. It was now plainly clear, and Magnus couldn’t try to grasp at tubes to deny the obvious truth: Megazarak was gone.

He couldn’t comprehend it.

Did the mech think of him in his final moments? Did he apologize that he wasn’t going to see him again, that he had failed in his escape attempt? Was the last word on the Decepticon’s glossa that of his name?

But who was he joking. Magnus knew that he would never get to know the answers in this life.

“Leave.”

“Sir?” Red Alert said in a tone of voice that was tinged with worry.

Magnus dropped the datapad at his pedes and curled his servos into fists. “Leave me be.”

The three other bots looked at him apprehensively. He reiterated his words. “Leave me be, _please_. I don’t want to ask again,” he whispered, voice cracking on the last word.

Red Alert met his gaze, and after a few moments of quiet she reached out and tapped Botanica on her shoulder strut. “Come.”

Both High Councilors looked like they wanted to protest, but Red gave them both looks that told them to not question.

Magnus watched as the three bots left his quarters, using his little bit of strength to keep from breaking down. The moment the doors closed and clicked shut, locking him in…

He broke.

Magnus grabbed the back of the long seat and pushed it so it fell over, howling in grief as it lay awkwardly on the floor. His howls devolved into choked sobs as he swept work datapads, decorative trinkets, and small gifts for his sparkling off of the end tables.

He was gone.

He would never see Megazarak again. Never again would he see that salacious smirk, feel the pulses of his chosen mate’s spark lulling him to recharge, dance with him under imploding stars.

There would never be a chance that his beloved and the sparkling that he carried would get to know each other.

Primus, no, he would have to do this all alone. Magnus slid to the floor and pressed his back strut against the nearest wall, his sobs so forceful that the armor on his frame shook and rattled. Magnus gave a shuddering breath and pressed the flat parts of his palms against his optics to stem the flow of the tears. His spark felt heavy, as if the weight of an entire world was in there for him to carry around.

It would have never happened, but he would have loved to at least have had a frame to hold and to bury. Having proof of his loved one’s passing in front of him, being able to look upon Megazarak’s face and touch his servos, would have made this even an iota easier.

He thought of Megazarak’s deceased frame being smelted down for Decepticon metals and other things that the very faction that had booted him out would use him for. He also thought of Megazarak’s frame lying in the prison, riddled with blast holes, the light gone from his vermillion optics.

The thoughts brought the tears back to his own optics again. His sobs were quieter this time as his spark and mind finally processed the fact that he was now completely alone.

He thought that he wanted his spark to extinguish itself, for him to join with Megazarak in whatever afterlife truly existed. Even if there was no afterlife, it had to be better to be nothing than to exist in a universe where the other mech was no longer alive.

The sparkling stretched and kicked softly. It was the first bit of movement he had felt during the ordeal; he had almost forgotten that he was still heavy with sparkling.

Magnus gave a shuddering breath and moved his servos from his optics, placing them on the swell of his abdomen. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into the air. “I thought at some point I could do this with your sire, but it’s just going to be you and…” he sniffed, optical fluid still escaping and trailing down his faceplates, “it’s going to be you and I. I-I am so, so…” his voice faltered and he trailed off, staring at the wall across his frame. The sobs subsided briefly as his processor registered the fact that Megazarak, the love of his life cycle and the sire of the sparkling he carried, was no longer functioning.

As much as he wanted to cease existing, he had one reason not to.

He got to his pedes and looked at the overturned seat, the thrown objects on the floor, and looked at his wrecked reflection in the window.

Magnus reached a servo out and touched the glass, tracing lines between stars that formed a crude copy of Megazarak’s helm. Then he noticed that one of the stars that formed one of the optics had winked out of existence.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

But he had no idea to whom the apology was directed at.


	17. So Small

_Knock knock knock._

“Trion?”

If it weren’t for the voice that called part of his name, Alpha Trion wouldn’t have thought that it was Kup on the other side of the doors that led into his quarters. He stretched as he got up from the seat and opened the door to see the teal-colored mech standing in the doorway.

“So I assume you’ll be knocking on doors from now on.”

“Nah, somethin’ hard ta get used to. Yer gonna let me in or what?”

Alpha Trion sighed and stepped aside to let the Major into his quarters. Once Kup was through, he watched as the doors slid shut before he turned to look at the other mech. “May I ask, what brings you here? It’s almost the middle of the solar cycle – I was under the impression that you make the cadets do drills around this time?”

“I let ‘em off for today, given what’s happen’d an’ all. But I told ‘em I’ll be pushing them hard tomorrow. As for yer question,” Kup rolled his shoulder struts and took the cy-gar out of his mouth, “the High Council’s gettin’ worried about Magnus. They’re askin’ if ya’d be willin’ to talk to him.”

Hurt tinged at the core of his spark, but Alpha Trion quashed it down and shook his helm. “He and I are no longer together in that aspect, Kup. Why are you coming to me to ask me to speak to him?”

“Not me. The Council sent me to ask ya.” Kup stuck the cy-gar back in his mouth. “They’re askin’ ‘cause none of them can get a hold of Ultra Magnus.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. It’s been three solar cycles since we learned that Megazarak has gone offline, so I know he’s grieving.”

“Botanica’s expressin’ concern that he’s not even answerin’ ‘em. They’re thinkin’ that since ya and him had somethin’ goin’ on for a while, that you might be able to get a response from him.”

“What about Red Alert? I know she and Magnus are on better terms than he and I are, especially now.”

“She’s gone in a few times to keep optics on him an’ the bitlet, but he’s not even talkin’ to her.” Kup sighed and Trion saw the look on the teal-colored mech’s faceplates that he knew meant he was thinking. “Says that he’s just lyin’ in his berth, starin’ at nothin’.”

Alpha Trion twisted his lipplates in an expression of thought. “He’s not known to lie around and mope.”

“Yeah well, don’t think he’s ever had a loss ah this caliber b’fore.”

Alpha Trion sighed and drummed his digits against the wall he had his servo on. “Fine. I will go to his quarters, and see if I can get an answer out of him.”

.-.-.

News of Megazarak’s death had spread amongst the Autobots. Many were scared at the prospect of the leader of the Decepticons having gone offline, for it meant there would be chaos in the ranks. And Primus knew what could happen.

What was worrisome was the thought that whomever took over their enemy faction could break the ceasefire treatise.

That worry, too, was in the back of his processor. But there were other things at the forefront as he lay in berth, staring dully at the ceiling above him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had moved, and he was incapable of searching his memory banks for a more definite answer.

Another ping registered in his audio receptor, and his HUD showed him that he had another message. He had gotten many of them over the past few solar cycles and after briefly glancing at them, would swipe them away.

He was about to shuffle it away when he saw that the sender was Alpha Trion. He opened it.

_We are worried for you and for the sparkling. You haven’t answered any messages that have been sent to you over the past three solar cycles. Please at least respond to this one._

_-A. Trion, Senior High Councilor_

Magnus stared at the message for what seemed to be a long time, but, according to his internal chronometer, only was about a quarter of an hour. He took a deep, laborious breath and composed a short reply:

_Physically fine. Emotionally not._

_-Ultra Magnus, Supreme Commander of the Autobots_

He sent it off and closed his optics.

If he were in recharge, he could dream of a universe where Megazarak was still online. There would be no datapad with his final message, no new leader of the Decepticons. There would be no Autobots or Decepticons, eventually.

There would just be them and their sparkling. Nothing else in the universe would matter.

Optical fluid gathered behind his optic covers and seeped out, trickling down his faceplates. A shudder began in his intakes and made its way up his frame until he let out of a soft sob.

Gentle knocks came from the door, startling him. A voice called out to him. “Ultra Magnus?”

Magnus didn’t remember getting up from the berth, but the next thing he knew he was opening the door and letting the Senior High Councilor through. He said nothing, only turning around and laying back on his berth.

Out of the corner of his optics he watched as the High Councilor grabbed the foldable seat that Red Alert had brought in a solar cycle prior and set it up next to his berth, right across from where he lay his helm. In his processor, Magnus thought that he should tell Alpha Trion to not bother and to leave.

“I’ve been asked to make contact with you.”

Magnus turned his helm and stared dully at the High Councilor, but said nothing. He heard the elder mech sigh, and after a silence of a few nanokliks, Alpha Trion continued, “And I’ve heard that you haven’t spoken a word since you were given the news.”

That made the Autobot Commander furrow his optic ridges and think on the past few solar cycles, trying to determine whether it was completely true or just an exaggeration of a sort. He shook his helm. “I have spoken a word or two since then,” he said, the sound of his own voice startling him, “but not many.”

“I can see that. I’ve already let the High Council know that you are online and functioning.”

“I don’t wish to speak to anyone, Alpha Trion. Please, just leave me be.”

“Ultra Magnus,” Alpha Trion crossed his arms over his chassis and huffed, “I don’t intend on leaving you alone. I was asked to make contact with you.”

“Which you have.”

“Yes. But I don’t intend on leaving you alone when you are in this state, languishing in your own grief.”

Magnus stared at Alpha Trion, then rolled onto his side with his back strut toward the High Councilor, looking at the wall across him. He closed his optics and shook his helm.

But Alpha Trion didn’t budge.

“I expected,” Magnus began slowly and softly, voice low, “that he would make his way here. Even with another mech having been named the sire of my sparkling, I felt that I could have spoken to him and told him that the sparkling was indeed his.”

“You do realize that that would still have created an intergalactic incident of unseen proportions?”

“Now I do.” Magnus sighed heavily, and he didn’t realize that his throat cables were constricting until his voice choked up. “It was a mistake.”

“What was?”

“Everything. Being with him. Getting sparked.” Magnus twisted his lipplates but that didn’t prevent the next three words from slipping out. “Keeping the sparkling.”

A moment of quiet passed, and Magnus felt one of the High Councilor’s thinner servos touch his upper arm.

“None of those things were mistakes on your part, Ultra.” Alpha Trion heaved a sigh. “It’s just an unfortunate fact that these were all decisions you made while holding the office you currently do. If you hadn’t been Magnus… I imagine you and he would have been able to get away with it.”

“No. It was a mistake. There was no way that we could have gotten away with this relationship. If I weren’t in the position I am in, this would never had happened.”

“But we wouldn’t have had a few stellar cycles of ceasefire. If someone else were in the position of Magnus, who knows what would have happened. The truth is… even setting my sentiments for you aside, you were always the most competent leader and Elite Guard bot, and the most fit for office.”

Magnus sighed and turned to lie on his back strut, staring at the ceiling. Out of the corner of his optics, he could see that Alpha Trion was looking intently at him.

“I miss him.”

Alpha Trion moved his helm but kept his gaze on the Magnus.

“I… I miss him. The last messages we exchanged with each other… I was angry. I don’t remember being so angry.” Magnus pressed the palms of his servos to his optics and in-vented heavily. “And then a few solar cycles later, to discover I was carrying, which was the very last thing I wanted out of my life. He told me in his recording that I could have terminated and he would never have known. I wonder why I didn’t.”

“Had you grown attached to your sparkling by then?” Alpha Trion asked quietly.

Ultra tried to think through the haze of his grief and exhaustion, and winced as he felt a faint twinge in his belly. “I don’t know. I think I was ambivalent. I know I told Red Alert that I couldn’t bear to terminate, but I don’t know if it was because I was attached or because… perhaps because I thought that Megazarak would have forgiven me for what I said if I told him that I was sparked.”

Silence fell between the two mechs. In his peripheral vision Magnus saw Alpha Trion lean back and place his servos on his knee joints. “So the question now is, will you still keep the sparkling?”

Feeling soft tugs on his spark from the bitlet lazily stirring inside of him, Magnus curled his servos into the fabric of the thermal sheet that was thrown loosely over his frame. “I know myself now well enough to say no. I won’t be giving up the sparkling. What happened with Megazarak has happened and… it cannot be changed.” Magnus in-vented and splayed the digits of one servo over the swell of his abdomen. “But I won’t allow this to affect my sparkling.”

Suddenly the faint pulses of pain he had been feeling off and on throughout the solar cycle came back, this time with more force. He choked on his words and squeezed his optics shut for a moment, curling his servo into a fist.

“Magnus?” he heard Alpha Trion say with a note of concern in his voice. He felt the Senior High Councilor touch his arm. He reopened his optics and looked at the other mech.

“Are you alright?”

Magnus grimaced and shook his helm once. “I’m… I’m starting to go into emergence.” He breathed a sigh as the pain ebbed away to a far more tolerable level. “At least I believe I am. These pains have been coming off and on since the solar cycle began.”

He didn’t miss how the High Councilor’s optics widened.

“I am fine, Alpha Trion. When it gets excruciatingly painful I will go to the medical ward.”

“Magnus, you need to go to Red Alert now.”

Narrowing his optics and frowning, Magnus shook his helm.

Alpha Trion made a noise of frustration and grabbed the Commander’s arm, forcing him to sit up. “You’re not allowed to protest.”

“The Pit I am. I’m the Supreme Commander of the Autobots.”

“Yes, and you’re in need of medical attention. We’re going, _now_.”

He wanted to protest, but the High Councilor grabbed him by his upper arm and yanked him partway off the berth. Getting to his pedes, Magnus thought it funny that such a thin and elderly figure could have so much strength.

Ultra grabbed a datapad off his berthside table and let himself be guided to the medical ward.

_::Red Alert?::_

_::Oh look, you do talk!::_

_::Cut it out. It’s time::_

_::What do you me- OH! Get over here, First Aid will lead you into the private room set aside for you::_

.-.-.

Recharge didn’t come easily, if it came at all. He tried to nap between the contractions that racked his frame, but each time they came he hissed between his dentae and curled into himself, gripping Alpha Trion’s offered servo.

To his credit, the High Councilor didn’t protest.

When Magnus opened his optics after a few cycles of trying to get some recharge, he sighed and looked over at the older mech. He’d pulled a chair up to the berth’s side and was seated there, and now was half in recharge.

Magnus immediately felt terrible that he had been crushing the other mech’s servo while he’d been running on half a processor. He let Trion’s servo go and folded his servos on his chassis, turning his helm to look at the medical bay ceiling.

He felt the sparkling shifting minutely inside of him. Moving one of them from his chassis, he rubbed the swell of his midsection, murmuring in undertone, “You’ll be fine little one. You’ll be here soon.”

Staring back at the ceiling, he found himself thinking about nothing, then beginning to think about everything. “Everything” meaning Megazarak.

He should have been here. But he wasn’t.

Strangely enough he couldn’t seem to cry again. The past few solar cycles had drained him, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Another wave of pain overtook his frame, and he half-curled into himself and hissed between his dentae, panting to try and alleviate some of the spasms.

A servo touched his upper arm.

“You didn’t have to let mine go.”

Magnus shook his helm and when the contraction ebbed to a dull pain that he could tolerate, he looked again at the other mech. “I didn’t want to end up ripping your servo off while you were in recharge.” He gave the High Councilor a wry half-grin. “It’s best that I do such a thing while you’re fully awake.”

Alpha Trion merely stared at him and shook his helm. “If I were fully awake you wouldn’t have the chance to rip my servo away. I’d stop you before that could happen.”

Ultra stared awkwardly at Alpha Trion for a moment, realizing that the High Councilor lacked the ability to joke around in the same manner as…

He quashed that train of thought for now. He had other matters on his processor; this was no time for him to resume what he had been doing over the past few solar cycles. Briefly, his processor thought of things he had to do once this was done and over with.

“That… that was supposed to be a joke, wasn’t it?”

The late realization and the confused, apologetic tone in the High Councilor’s voice made Magnus wince. He nodded. “It was, yes. A poor joke at that. But it doesn’t ma-” Ultra was cut off when he heard the door to his private room slide open, and two sets of pedes walked in.

“It’s been a few cycles at this point. How are you faring, sir?”

Magnus wanted to retort with something snarky, but nothing came to processor so he settled for groaning in pain.

“That says a lot. How far apart are they?”

“They’re getting closer together,” Magnus replied quietly after a few moments, not meeting the medic’s optics. Primus, he was exhausted and in so much pain. “I don’t know how far apart they are as I haven’t kept count.”

Red Alert thinned her lipplates and looked at the elder councilmech sitting next to the berth. “Have you kept count, Senior Councilor?”

Magnus looked at Alpha Trion, who looked at him for a moment as well before he turned back to Red Alert. “When he first came in they were twenty kliks apart. They’ve decreased to seventeen.”

“Hmm, I’ll need to double check something. You,” Magnus felt Red Alert pat his legs and he looked at her with a dull gaze, “part ‘em.”

He obeyed her, and winced as he felt two of her digits press into his valve. It was an awkwardly tense few moments while she took measurements.

“Twenty-nine percent dilation, and the sparkling’s almost fully turned. He’ll be hitting the active phase soon.”

Magnus thought of what he’d read in those datapads, and frowned as he stared up at the ceiling. If the pains were as terrible as they were already, he couldn’t imagine how much worse they could get.

“Did you already decide what you want to do?”

Looking again at Red Alert, he furrowed his optical ridges in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I informed you that emergence on your backstruts isn’t an option at your last, or second to last, appointment. I forgot exactly which one.” The medic cleaned off her digits and crossed her arms over her chassis. “I suggest the solvent method. I know a lot of carriers find it more soothing than any other method of emergence.”

He found that the lights and the sound of talking were starting to grate on his nerves. Closing his optics and pinching his nasal ridge between two digits, he grit out, “Remind me why the backstruts method is not an option.”

“Primus above,” he heard the medic snort, “you’re really out of it. It puts you at an increased chance of bleeding out, and trying to birth on your backstruts works against gravity so it will be a lot more difficult to deliver the bitlet.”

“Fine.”

“So what is it?”

_“I don’t know.”_

Magnus had a feeling that if he weren’t carrying and in the throes of the emergence cycle, he would have gotten an audioful from the medic, judging by the exasperated look on her faceplates.

“First Aid,” he heard her call to her assistant, “start filling up the pool in case he decides on that method of emergence.”

“Okay!” The overly chipper assistant seemed to fly as he raced into a small hallway off the suite.

Just as First Aid darted off, another contraction hit, ripping a pained shout from his vocalizer. Magnus shot up in berth and gripped the edges, trying his best to breathe through it.

He heard Red Alert say something, he wasn’t sure to whom, but he got his answer when he felt another frame climb into the berth with him and press against his backplates. Servos began kneading somewhat clumsily against his lower spinal strut, but oh Primus it felt amazing.

The pain quickly subsided, and he became aware of Alpha Trion’s absence from the chair next to the berth.

But the servos on his backplates were definitely the High Councilor’s.

“When he hits the active phase, these pain spasms are going to come a lot more rapidly and last longer. They’re also going to be a lot more intense, so High Councilor, I’m trusting you to be his support bot during this ordeal.”

The servos on his backplates stalled a bit, enough time for Magnus to hear Alpha Trion’s voice reply somewhat tersely, “I’ve been here this entire time, and I don’t intend to leave Ultra Magnus alone until his sparkling is safely in his arms.”

Red Alert squinted her optics at him, then nodded.

.-.-.

Whomever it was that decided to label this part as active emergence had a sense of humor in them, Magnus thought.

There was nothing _active_ about it. He’d only managed to take a few steps before his frame screamed that it was enough. Though he was in pain he’d managed to tell Trion that he needed to lie down or rest on something, which was how he was now sitting on the floor, leaning forward with his servos gripping the edge of the berth.

He laid his helm against his servos, sighing. Only forty-two percent, Red Alert had said.

But she had tried to be cheerful and positive, saying that she was certain they’d have a sparkling born before the next solar cycle.

That was going to be far too long. If that were the case, he wanted a surgical extraction.

When he’d told Red Alert that, she snorted and said it wasn’t an option unless they were about to offline.

Fraggit.

He felt a small nudge against his shoulder strut. He turned his helm and upper body slightly to see that Trion was offering him a small bowl.

Magnus sighed in exhaustion and closed his optics, leaning against the edge of the berth again. “What is it?”

“Frozen energon chips.” Trion shuffled awkwardly where he sat, next to the commander. “I asked Red Alert what would be acceptable for you to ingest if you couldn’t drink standard liquefied energon. She suggested these.”

Previously he hadn’t felt his tanks churning, but suddenly he did. He reached out and grabbed the bowl, tossing his helm back as he downed the contents.

Then an extremely painful contraction hit, and he sent the bowl clattering to the floor as he curled his servos around the edge of the berth with enough force to slightly warp the metal, and cried out. No, he _screamed_.

He felt Trion’s servos on his back and heard the Councilor call for someone. Before he knew it, Red was right by his side, placing a digit in his valve again. “Fifty-one percent. This is starting to speed up.”

Magnus let his helm thunk against the edge of the berth, riding out the wave of pain. “Wonderful. I need to get this over with.”

“You will. You just need to be patient.”

“I have been patient for twenty-two decacycles. I want this sparkling out now.”

“You should have asked for a surgical removal.”

“Frag no.”

“It’ll be a “frag yes” if the sparkling gets stuck in there and you don’t dilate any further,” Red Alert informed him with a warning tone. “But I do need a confirmation. Do you want the solvent method? The pool is half-full and I don’t want to waste more solvent if you’re not going to want it.”

Magnus thought more about it, but while his processor knew that it would be better, his entire frame prickled at the thought of being in liquid, no matter how warm and inviting it might have been. He shook his helm.

“So which one are you going to go for?”

“Servos. I don’t know. Don’t ask me questions please.”

“If you weren’t in the throes of emergence I’d whap you upside the helm with your own datapad.”

Magnus merely stared at the medic with a look on his faceplates that clearly dared her to try. She scoffed and walked away, pulling a datapad out of her subspace. When she began murmuring something to First Aid, his processor trailed off and he found himself waking up a few kliks later when yet another contraction hit his frame.

Alpha Trion was there again, holding his servo. Magnus held onto it with a vise-like grip, and the High Councilor didn’t complain. When the pain ebbed away for that moment, Ultra sighed and looked into the dimmed blue optics that looked at him. There were no words passed between them, but Magnus nodded meekly at the elder mech.

A small smile crossed Alpha Trion’s faceplates before it flickered out of existence. He nodded in turn.

“Thank you for staying with me,” Magnus managed to whisper kliks later, panting as he felt another contraction resurging. “You don’t have to do this. I hope you know that.”

“I know very well that it’s not my obligation. But I willingly allowed my designation to be written in your file as the other creator of your sparkling, and I must do what I can to fulfill that role for now.”

Ultra pursed his lipplates and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’m sorry that you were caught in this. I shouldn’t have… there are many things that I should not have done.”

“They have already been done, Ultra. Now is the time to deal with them, just as you currently are.”

The other mech was right. Seemed to be, most of the time. Magnus closed his optics and nodded once. “I’m scared,” he confessed.

He heard the councilor sigh and his calm voice reply, “I’ve never been to one of these myself, but knowing what comes at the end of this entire ordeal, I’m assuming you have every right to be afraid. It won’t be an easy thing but, as Red Alert has told you before, I’m sure, you will be just fine.”

Magnus thought of Megazarak holding a miniature version of either of them, with Magnus’s bright blue optics, and frowned. He was slightly surprised and greatly relieved that the thought of the Decepticon warlord didn’t bring him to tears again, but he assumed it was due to all the pain he was going through.

The contraction hit and he yelled, crushing Alpha Trion’s servo in his grip again. Out of the corner of his optics he noted faintly how the High Councilmech let a pained expression cross his faceplates, but said nothing.

When the contraction faded away, Magnus ex-vented. “I hope I will be.”

.-.-.

Transition was supposed to be the shortest phase of the emergence cycle, but everything hurt so much that time slowed to a crawl.

Magnus gasped as the fourth contraction in the span of ten kliks hit him. Servos massaged his backplates, but he slapped them away and choked on a yell, crying out, “Red, I have to push! I have to push!”

“Don’t or I’ll remove that sparkling by servo. You’re nowhere near ready.”

Ultra opened his optics and hissed at the medic. He spat on the floor at her pedes and snarled, “Frag you!”

She looked unconcerned that she had just been told off by the Supreme Commander, and looked around his shoulder stack at the mech that had just had his servos slapped away. “Did you get him to say what position he was going to do?”

“I did not, unfortunately. Ultra?”

Magnus dropped his helm and groaned. “Like this.” He shook his helm once. “I don’t think… I don’t think I have the strength to move off the berth.”

“Alright then. First Aid, come, we need to help him get into the proper position.”

When servos got on his frame he felt his sensors scream at him, a sensory overload, and he wanted to scream at the medic and her assistant to leave him alone but his processor told him this was for the best.

Something leaked from between his legs.

“Frag, frag,” Magnus muttered under his breath as the set of servos on his hips helped him angle his pelvis in a downward position. Then he became aware of Alpha Trion in front of him. The High Councilor’s faceplates loomed in his visual field, concern written on them.

“Ultra? Do you need something?”

His tanks churned and he could feel something coming up. He grimaced and cast his glance at a waste bin in the corner. “The waste bin,” he managed to say. “Now.”

The High Councilor left his visual field and returned in time for Ultra to shove his helm into the bin and retch. His frame shook, armor rattled, and he groaned with optical fluid streaming out of his optics. Closing his optics, Magnus gave a shuddering moan. “I’m sorry.”

The only response was Alpha Trion stroking his helm.

“This is your last chance, sir. Do you want a pain inhibitor?”

“No.”

“Are you _sure_?”

“I’ll deal with this Red Alert, just please let me.” Magnus slumped against Alpha Trion, his servos weakly clutching onto the elder mech. His dazed processor and aching, trembling frame paid no mind to how Alpha Trion tensed.

All he could think about was how much it hurt.

Undigested energon bubbled at the corner of his mouthplates and he jerked, yanking the waste bin closer again. Just after he did so, he felt another spasm coming on.

“FRAG!” He released his grip on the waste bin and stifled a cry.

“Scream all you want sir; no one will judge you. Scream and yell.”

With the next contraction, and the overlapping one that followed immediately after, Magnus did exactly that as the pressure in his pelvis intensified.

“Part your legs.”

“Red-”

“Part them _now_.”

After he gathered his strength, Ultra did so, panting and still holding onto Alpha Trion as Red Alert took a scanning wand from First Aid and inserted it into his valve.

“It’s time.”

The sound of those two words sent fear into Magnus’s spark. It was time to face the consequences of what he and Megazarak had done, and give it a name, and profess to love and protect said consequence for the rest of his life.

Comforting servos ran up and down his arms, and a gentle voice told him, “He’s almost here, Ultra. You’ll hold him soon.”

Magnus gave an exhausted nod, panting and groaning as Red Alert dabbed something around the rim of his valve. “It hurts,” he sobbed quietly, squeezing his optics shut. “Primus, it hurts.”

“I know,” Trion whispered back, moving his servos from his arms, and Magnus almost melted into the motion of the other mech’s servo stroking his helm. “I know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon. You’ll get to hold your son very soon.”

“Okay,” Red Alert’s voice cut through his hazy processor, “he’s dropped low enough. When the next contraction hits, I want you to push with it until you can’t.”

Magnus groaned and rested his helm on Trion’s shoulder strut, squeezing his optics shut. He whispered in the other mech’s processor, “You still have a chance to leave. I will not hold it against you.”

Something in Alpha Trion’s field changed, but then the High Councilor gave a firm shake of his helm.

Magnus was crying out before he even realized that his frame was being wracked by contractions. Red Alert was saying something, but the only word he could decipher through all of the pain was the word “push” and he clung to that one, bearing down with all the bits of strength left in him.

“I see fins, almost like yours!”

His? Would the sparkling look just like him? Magnus didn’t dwell on it further as the contraction ebbed away and he sighed, trying to regain strength.

“That’s good, he’s coming out. When the next one hits make sure you keep pushing down with everything you have, sir. Push until you can’t.”

“I can’t do this,” Magnus panted, optics dimmed and bleary. He was saying it to no one in particular, but he looked at Alpha Trion as he said it. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have much of a choice now, Ultra,” Alpha Trion said in the most deadpan voice that the Supreme Commander had ever heard him use. And he realized, logically, that he was right. Still, he shook his helm in the negative.

“No. I can’t. I don’t want to have this sparkling. It fragging hurts. Red Alert, can you please remove him by servo?”

“Not when he’s hanging out of your valve at this point.”

Groaning, Magnus shoved his face back into the High Councilor’s shoulder. If anyone told him that he should have taken the pain inhibitor, he would punch them.

Another contraction split his frame and he cried, pushing when the urge swelled in him. He felt the sparkling’s helm press against the rim of his valve, splitting him open even further.

He heard First Aid’s squeaky voice ask if something was normal and supposed to happen, which nearly made him whirl around and demand answers to whatever abnormality was happening, but then he heard Red Alert assure the young mech that it was going to happen.

“He’s almost here,” Alpha Trion’s voice said, bringing him back to ground when the contraction subsided. Magnus turned his helm and looked at the warm blue optics that met his. He mouthed two words in response. _I’m scared._

Alpha Trion gently pulsed his field out to comfort him.

Moments later, his frame was wracked with pain again.

“You’re doing it, you’re doing it, you’re almost there!”

Magnus curled his servos into fists and turned his helm, screaming into Trion’s chassis as he felt his valve split wider around the sparkling’s helm, then the shoulder struts. His frame convulsed and he pushed, crying as the pain raced across his neural net.

“Almost there! Oh, First Aid, get some sheets. One more push and he’ll be here!”

The Autobot Commander bellowed as the widest part of the sparkling passed out of him, and then choked in relief as the rest of the bitlet slipped out of him, aided by Red Alert’s servos, followed by a gush of fluids that splashed on the berth and trickled down his thighs and legs, pooling underneath him.

A part of his processor cursed the size of his shoulder struts as he tried to turn around and look, but Red Alert was immediately at his side, by his helm instead of level with his hips and pelvic strut. The biggest smile he had ever seen was on her faceplates as she held a tiny little thing wrapped in blue and gold sheets.

The little blue face that peeped out from the folds, still covered in effluvia and streaks of energon, was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in his life cycle. Imploding stars and glowing crystals the size of moons held no contest against the visage of his little son.

“Here he is, sir,” Red Alert said softly, gently wiping down the bitlet’s faceplates as she held him out to his carrier. “He’s absolutely _beautiful_.”

The sparkling wriggled in the sheets and opened his mouth, crying weakly, face scrunched in an expression of displeasure even as Magnus kissed the bitlet’s helm crest, sobbing quietly. He was still so weak that he couldn’t reach out with either of his arms to take the tiny sparkling into his embrace while in his current position.

Magnus couldn’t keep his optics off of his son as Trion and First Aid helped maneuver him to lie partway on his side, supported by mesh pillows. Once he was safely on the berth, Red Alert gently placed the bundle of sheets and sparkling to lie on the berth against his chassis.

Ignoring the servos moving around his lower half, wiping down his leg struts and changing out the sheets for clean ones, Magnus whispered, “You’re so small.”

The sparkling immediately stopped crying, face awkwardly tilting up toward the source of the voice. Slowly, the optics opened to reveal a grey-blue color tinged with static, and Magnus then remembered that his son wouldn’t see his face for a few solar cycles. The mechling snuffled and closed his optics, whimpering as he fell into recharge against his carrier’s chassis.

Digits stroking the miniscule helm fins that stuck out of the infant mech’s helm like little wings, Magnus held back choked sobs as he thought of old photo captures from the past.

Megazarak had told him in his last message that he’d hoped that their sparkling would emerge looking just like him, the Magnus, so there would be little suspicion of the newspark’s true parentage. However, the sparkling was almost the spitting image of Megazarak, in a time before he changed to become the mech that the universe knew and came to fear, and that he had come to love.

Spindly digits entered his visual field and touched the sparkling’s face with utmost tenderness, and Magnus looked up to see Alpha Trion half-seated on the berth and looking at the bitlet with something akin to awe on his faceplates. Without looking up and meeting the Autobot Commander’s optics, Trion chuckled quietly. “I suppose the story now is that you underwent a frame change.”

He hadn’t even remembered his words from that meeting with the Council, having asked himself how he was going to explain the clear differences between himself and his son. Indeed. If asked, he would go on record and state that he had undergone a frame change before he had joined the Elite Guard.

Magnus nodded and drew in a deep breath, pausing for a moment before he released it. He thought of the Elite Guard, and all of Cybertron before him. “And I will say that he takes after me, bearing resemblance to the frame I was born with. Which is not the one I currently have.”

Alpha Trion looked at him in contemplation before nodding once. He looked back down at the bitlet and stroked one of his helm fins. “He’s absolutely magnificent, Ultra.”

The bitlet sneezed in his recharge and squeaked in surprise, but didn’t completely wake. Magnus nodded and moved his digits to stroke the little one’s back strut.

Indeed he was. So small, but so full of promise and potential.

Magnus closed his optics and nodded again. “Thank you.”

.-.-.

When Magnus woke again, he was wiped down and the sheets on the berth smelled brand new. He blinked his optics and then realized that only a few kliks had passed, and Red Alert was sitting at the end of the berth with a datapad in her servos.

The bitlet was still asleep, his small blue servos curled up and resting against his faceplates.

One servo laid higher than the other. Sometimes, if Magnus had woken early enough, he would turn over in berth and smile at the sight of Megazarak in recharge with one servo curled into a fist and lying higher than his other one.

His frame hurt even just curling tighter around the little frame of his son, but Magnus focused all his attention on the little blue and red mechling, stroking his faceplates with a gentle digit.

“Despite what I said earlier, about my having made mistakes, know that you are not one. And despite my saying that I didn’t want you, that was the pain talking. It may have taken me a while to realize it… but I wanted you.” Magnus wiped away the optical fluid that streamed down his faceplates so it didn’t land on his sparkling’s face, which would give him cause to stir awake. “I know you can’t understand me, but know that you are not a mistake. No matter what happens, you are the one thing in my life cycle that I have done right.”

The bitlet stirred and yawned, opening one of his servos and reaching out.

Magnus’s spark soared when it wrapped around his digit.


	18. Optimus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life has kicked my ass in more ways than one. Have a chapter.

_“He’s beautiful.”_

_Magnus woke, optics bleary, and the first thing he noticed was that the berth was more comfortable than he remembered. The lights weren’t on, even in a dim setting. Light from Cybertron’s star filtered through windows that he didn’t remember being there._

_He turned his helm to the side and saw his newly sparked son cradled in the arms of-_

_“You’re alive?”_

_Vermillion optics looked at him, full of hope and joy of a caliber he’d never seen._

_It was a struggle but Magnus sat up and stared at Megazarak with wide blue optics, reaching out. Megazarak backed away._

_“I need to feel you. Are you alive?”_

_The optics dimmed, the hope and joy seeping out as Megazarak looked down at the peacefully recharging infant in his arms._

_“I’m sorry, Ultra. I wish I could tell you yes.”_

_Magnus dropped his arm that had reached for the other mech, looking at him with a mixture of incredulity and long-suffering. His spark hammered against its casing and he fought back the urge to grieve. “Why?”_

_“I wish I could tell you yes, because I hate to see the pain in your optics that you have right now. I’m sorry.” Megazarak chewed on his lower lipplate before continuing. “No. I no longer function.”_

_Magnus reached out for the Decepticon warlord again, and this time he managed to hold onto Megazarak’s arm. He felt so real and visceral, as if he were lying and the truth were that he was indeed functioning._

_“No,” Magnus whispered, reaching his other arm out and touching the arm that held onto the sparkling. “No.” He shook his helm. “I can touch you. I am able to feel you and all the scratches and the varied textures of your armor. You’re functioning.”_

_Dejected optics met his hopeful gaze, and Megazarak shook his helm. “This is a dream, Ultra. I’m sorry. But I don’t exist in this dimension any longer.”_

_He knew in his spark that Megazarak was right, but he didn’t want to believe it. Ultra closed his optics, trying to stop the flow of optical fluid that began trickling out of the corners. His spark hurt. Oh Primus, how it hurt. “You feel so real, Megazarak. How are you offline?”_

_A wry smile crossed the Decepticon’s faceplates. “You memorized every micrometer of me.”_

_A servo reached out, touching him, and Magnus opened his optics to see the little red bitlet that Megazarak held in his arms being transferred over to him. He held the sparkling close, looking down at the peacefully sleeping faceplates._

_“He looks like you,” Magnus whispered. “You wanted him to look like me. I wanted him to look like me.” Then he let out a sigh, bringing the sparkling to his faceplates and kissing the helm crest. “I prayed to whatever deity would listen that he would look like me.”_

_The bitlet yawned, stretching his arms and opening his servos._

_Arms wrapped around his frame, pulling him close, and Ultra’s intakes hitched as Megazarak stroked his back armor._

_“This is what would have happened with us, had we ended the war while I was still alive.” Megazarak twined his digits with Magnus’s, kissing his helm crest before kissing him on his lipplates. “I wish we could have been together, Ultra.” Megazarak sighed. “We would have been so happy.”_

_It took every iota of strength in Ultra Magnus’s frame to not break down and start begging Megazarak to stay. His processor knew it was fruitless either way. At some point he would have to wake and see the visage of the former Decepticon warlord fade, so he could face what was real. He looked down at the sleeping mechling in his arms and whispered, holding back tears, “We would have.”_

_Megazarak nodded once and then, after stroking his digits over the newspark’s helm, smiled. “Tell him I love him, every solar cycle you’re alive. And know that I continue to love you.” He pressed his forehelm against Magnus’s helm crest._

_Magnus closed his optics and sighed._

He woke, the light of his optics drowned by the darkness that surrounded him. The only other light sources in the room were those of the machines keeping track of his and the bitlet’s sparkrates.

The sparkling…

He panicked slightly when he realized that the mechling was not in his arms, as he had been just before he had woken up from his dream. Turning his helm around the room to look and see where the little sparkling had gone, he saw the tiny red frame sleeping peacefully in a small incubation berth that had been set up next to his.

Magnus sat up slowly, wincing in pain, and watched the bitlet’s optic covers flutter as he recharged. He slowly reached in and stroked the little mech’s faceplates, watching how he opened his mouth and squirmed, faceplates scrunching up. Small noises of discomfort reached his audio receptors, and he picked up the mechling, cradling him to his chassis.

The bitlet stopped squirming, cooing quietly and turning his face into his carrier’s chassis.

A datapad by the side of his berth caught his attention, and upon using his other servo to pick it up he realized it was the one that Red Alert had been writing information on the night cycle prior. It was a certificate of the bitlet’s emergence, with the time and date of his birth. Magnus saw his name, along with his official titles, written on the section that asked for the carrier’s designation.

In the section that asked for the sire’s designation, she had typed in Alpha Trion’s name, along with his title.

The gaping, empty section that asked for the sparkling’s designation reminded him that he had yet to come up with one he liked. He pursed his lipplates and began raking through his processor, trying to remember if he had even thought of any.

He realized he hadn’t. All this time, and he had come up with nothing.

The sparkling fussed and began crying, making sucking noises with his lipplates, which if Ultra remembered correctly was the tipoff that he was hungry. When he released a feeding line from his chassis and brought it up to the mechling’s mouth, he latched onto it immediately.

At that moment, the door to his room opened and Alpha Trion slowly strode in. He looked at the bitlet clutched to Magnus’s chassis and braked in his tracks. Magnus looked up and met Alpha Trion’s optics as the High Councilor asked quietly, “Is he in recharge?”

“No, he’s awake and feeding.” Magnus looked back down at the mech and moved his arms slowly, making sure that the elder bot could see the bitlet. “You may come in.”

Trion resumed his measured pace, sitting on the freed part of the berth that Magnus had left for him. Both of them sat quietly for a few moments, looking at the bitlet. When the mechling was done feeding and had nodded off, feeding tube still in his mouth, Trion sighed.

“What is it?” Magnus asked, pulling the tube away from his son.

“They want to speak to you, Ultra,” Alpha Trion whispered quietly. “You need to hear what they have to say.”

“Who is “they”?”

“The High Council. They need to speak to you, and you really do need to hear what they have to say to you.”

Magnus stalled a moment, then sighed heavily and nodded. “Wait until I put this away,” he held up the tube in his grip, “and then you may let them in.”

“They are not here yet, but I’ll call for them.”

Magnus nodded and wiped away the excess energon around the tip that the bitlet hadn’t swallowed, then put it away and closed his chassis plates. After securing his son in his arms, he looked at Alpha Trion again and nodded. “Let them in when they come,” he said quietly. “But tell them to keep their tones down.”

The Senior High Councilor turned on his pede and strode over to the door.

As the High Councilors were allowed entrance, Ultra thought that he must have looked quite a sight; the Magnus and Supreme Commander of the Autobots and Cybertron, half-lying in berth with a sparkling on his chassis. A small corner of his lipplates twitched upward in a partial grin as he saw the astounded and awed looks on their faceplates.

Even Alpha Trion seemed to be beaming.

“Sir,” Botanica whispered, crouching next to the berth with elation etched on her faceplates, “he’s beautiful.”

The partial grin became a full one as the bitlet yawned, optics fluttering under their covers, and curled his servos into fists. Magnus stroked the helm fins with his digits as he replied, “Thank you, Botanica.”

The femme looked enthralled with the tiny form on his chassis, and it was apparent that she would have liked to hold him in her arms, but she withdrew and stepped back.

“Alpha Trion informed me that you all needed to speak to me, and that I had to hear what you had to say,” Magnus said. “So what is it that needs to be brought to my attention?”

The entire room suddenly filled with tension. Magnus quickly picked up on the change in the air, narrowing his optics at the assembled group. “I asked a question, and I would appreciate an answer.”

Alpha Trion in-vented deeply. “Garo has been destroyed.”

Some internal mechanism in his frame dropped through the berth and onto the floor below. Ultra blinked his optics at the Senior High Councilor, unsure if he had heard correctly. “Repeat that.”

“The Autobot outpost at Garo has been blown to smithereens,” Highbrow elaborated. “We assume that one or some of the wardens of the prison on Thrull contacted Megatron to inform him that the Autobots were scouting the planet. He possibly panicked… or perhaps he didn’t, we don’t know him as well as we thought we knew Megazarak, and ordered the planet with our outpost on it destroyed. No one has survived, that we know of.”

“He’s trying to cover his tracks,” Alpha Trion said, sighing heavily. “He is probably going to make it seem like _we_ destroyed Thrull, Garo, and the rest of them.”

Magnus closed his optics, summoning what was left of his mental strength. He didn’t want to hear this. An entire solar cycle of some semblance of peace and quiet with his little son hadn’t happened yet, and here he was being informed of yet another atrocity.

Reopening them, he nodded and sighed. “If Megatron indeed had Megazarak killed, it’s doubtful that he would want the Autobots to know what he had done. Megazarak was, like it or not, our only ally within the Decepticon faction. And, we happened to have the only ally that we really needed in their ranks.”

A small murmur of agreement passed through the High Councilors.

“So what we meant to ask is this,” Botanica began hesitantly, “what do you propose our next move is, Supreme Commander?”

The posited question made his spark sink.

“If Megatron had kept his destructive streak confined to Thrull, we would have no reason to take action. But with the destruction of Garo, an Autobot stronghold, he has violated the terms of the ceasefire between the Autobots and the Decepticons.”

The sparkling stirred, and Magnus stopped speaking as he remembered the new center of his entire world. He stroked the sparkling’s helm and nodded. “In destroying Garo, Megatron has declared war on us. The ceasefire treaty lays it out clearly,” Magnus sighed as he recalled writing what he spoke next: “The targeting of weapons on the other party will be taken as an act of war from the offending party.”

There were murmurs of assent in the crowded room.

Trion spoke first after a few moments of silence. “I know last night you noticed that I was tensing here and there when you were in emergence. It was not due to you crushing my servos, or anything you were saying, Ultra. And I’m sorry if it happened to make you feel worse. The truth was that I was being fed information about what was going on with the destruction by Megatron’s forces.”

Highbrow nodded. “Alpha Trion ordered us to not contact you while you were undergoing emergence, and to relay all news and information about the Decepticons to him.”

Magnus stared a moment longer at Highbrow, then adjusted his grip on the sleeping mechling and looked at Trion. “Thank you for informing me of this. I will… I will need some time to think what the next plan of action is.”

“There’s only one,” Perceptor droned, “which is to resume our war.”

Trion shot the mech a look. “He needs his rest to think on it. Don’t implant any suggestions.”

“To be fair, at this point we will go to war some way or another,” Botanica spoke. She looked at Ultra and bowed her head. “But we will give you time alone to recuperate.”

“Just to be certain, do you still want us to give any news regarding this issue to Alpha Trion, or would you rather us contact you first?” Highbrow inquired.

Ultra looked at Alpha Trion, who nodded. “Over the next solar cycle, contact Alpha Trion first. After that, you may route all information through me.”

The door closed behind the other Councilors just as the mechling stirred in his recharge and opened still grey-blue optics, looking around and blinking.

_I wish you could see, my son._

“What are you thinking, Ultra?”

The Autobot Commander steeled his expression and flattened his lipplates into a thin, firm line. “Of our next action.”

“And what do you propose it be?”

“Just as Botanica said, Alpha Trion. It will happen, one way or another.” Magnus replied as he looked up at the Senior Councilor, who was seated across the berth. The elder mech’s posture told him what he already knew – warfare was unavoidable. “Now the proper question is, what other measures of protection should be taken to protect the Autobots stationed at outposts nearest the Decepticon strongholds?”

“Outfitting the outposts with weapons of higher caliber. How else would we implement stronger defense systems?”

“I… a thought occurred to me. I know that I will be heavily criticized for thinking of it, much less putting it into action, but…”

Alpha Trion made a motion with his servo, signaling for the Autobot Commander to keep speaking. Magnus slow-blinked his optics, and then looked down at the mechling cradled in his arms. He had fallen back into recharge, tiny chassis rising up and down. While looking at his son, Magnus continued his sentence: “When war is officially declared, I want there to be a list of known Decepticons. Their aliases, their alternate forms, and if at all possible, their unique coding. I want their coding filed away with infirmaries and hospitals so there would be no way they could avoid detection.

“You want there to be a Decepticon registry. Would it be accessible to the public, or only to us?”

“Only to the High Council, our commandants stationed at outposts around the galaxy, and myself. While we are at it, any ships that any Decepticons have been known to pilot must be registered and marked. And anyone who is known to have had prolonged contact with someone who is a known Decepticon will have to be investigated as to where their loyalties lie.”

Alpha Trion sighed and drummed his digits on the armrest of his seat. “This will be extremely controversial among even the most stalwart Autobots. You’re asking for an infringement upon private lives, Magnus. Do you realize that?”

Magnus said nothing, continuing to look down at the little form cradled safely to his chassis.

“When you are out of here and we can next meet with the rest of the High Council, we can bring up the idea you had and ask for more refinement. Until then,” Trion stood and dragged the seat closer to the head of the berth, “I want you to focus on other things. Don’t occupy yourself with this for now.”

He thought of protesting, but Magnus knew it was no use and relented.

“Now, I have a small question for you,” Alpha Trion said quietly, looking at the little red and blue mechling. “Have you named him?”

“I haven’t. I still can’t believe that I didn’t come up with a proper designation, and I had all this time to do so.”

“Don’t feel so awful about it. You have had… a lot to contend with the past many decacycles.” Magnus felt a comforting touch on his lower arm. “And your focus was making sure he was healthy. Now you have some time to think more on it.”

Magnus nodded in agreement, and looked down at the sparkling in his arms.

Watching the mechling’s chassis rise up and down in his recharge, Magnus thought of what he had gone through to get here. The revelation that he was carrying, and how the news had shocked him. He wasn’t going to delude himself – for the briefest moment, in the heat of the life-changing news, he considered a termination. But then he realized that he would not be able to go through with it and come out of it just fine. Something in his spark fell into place when he decided that he would keep the sparkling. The very same sparkling that was now peacefully sleeping on his chassis, and was for now wholly dependent on him for his most basic of needs.

He heard the door to the room quietly shut, and he realized that Alpha Trion had left without him noticing. After staring at the closed door for a few moments longer, he pursed his lipplates in thought.

At some point… they would have to talk. But it wouldn’t be right then and there, and certainly not in the next solar cycle.

Turning his attention back to the sparkling, he pressed his lipplates to the mechling’s helm crest, watching as the bitlet stirred and yawned. A servo reached out and opened up, little fingers stretching and then clasping onto the digit that Magnus offered. “You are the best thing that has happened to me. I didn’t know that it was possible to love another being at the level I love you.” His digits stroked light blue faceplates. “I thought I loved your sire… and even now, I still do. Very much so. But you have stolen my spark.”

The sparkling’s grip on his digit loosened, and the servo dropped to rest on the bright red chassis.

Was this little being truly the best thing that had happened to him?

Next to Megazarak, and being accepted into the Elite Guard where he now wished to live out his life… yes. He truly was.

A designation popped into his helm. Its core meaning felt right with his spark, as it completely described what he felt for his son.

Magnus smiled at the mechling, mulled the designation over in his processor for a few moments longer, before he decided it was perfect. “You don’t understand me at this point in time, but this will never change. You truly are the best thing that has happened to me, and I will remind you of such until my offlining cycle. I love you, my son. Optimus.”

The sparkling yawned and turned his helm slightly to the side, burying his faceplates into his carrier’s chassis.


	19. Contrary

_I didn’t mean it._

Those four words repeated themselves as he stared out the large window in his quarters. Well, they were now his quarters, now in the face of his adoptive sire’s deposing and his offlining.

It was only a few solar cycles before that his biggest worry within these walls were how to decorate the room. Megazarak had been well and alive in his tiny cell on Thrull, paying penance for his sin of consorting with the enemy. He’d sent that datapad with a messenger, intending to break Megazarak further.

After all, he was a Decepticon. Born with a clean slate, but hardened by life, brutalized by what had been thrown at him and taught to him. He enjoyed playing with his prey.

But this was still the mech that had taken him in and cared for him, defended him when he was a small youngling. When he was too weak to defend himself and speak up for what he needed and wanted.

The thought of Megazarak going offline seemed like a twisted fantasy that would play out in his processor, before he realized what he was thinking and recoiled at how horrible the train of thought was. It was something kept strictly in his mind. Never to be played out in actuality.

Megatron focused his attention on the stars and tried to find the one that Thrull had orbited. However, he didn’t have the attention span for it, and he gave up after a few moments.

When planets exploded, they failed to leave a mark in the sky like supernovae did.

Now was time to sit and wait for the consequences to come.

For right now, all he could do was wait for the Autobots’ reaction. All he could do was wait for retribution.

.-.-.

For the fifth time that night cycle, he was roused from recharge.

It hadn’t been the sparkling’s fault, however, which ran contrary to the warnings he had been given in the datapads regarding carrying cycles and the first stellar cycle of a sparkling’s life cycle. No, Optimus had been a relatively easy bitlet from his birth, perfectly content to lie within close proximity to his carrier and recharge.

It tended to be the noises of guards traipsing up and down the corridors that wakened him. Normally he would have slept through it, but he noticed that with the arrival of the bitlet, he had become more alert to his surroundings than he had already been.

After making sure that there was no imminent danger to either him or the sparkling, Magnus looked to the sparkling berth situated next to his and laid his helm back on the berth, his gaze still on the peacefully recharging form.

Optimus had his servos curled into fists, both resting above his helm with one positioned higher than the other one. His little red chassis rose and fell on occasion when he decided to take air into his systems and then release it. The covers of his optics fluttered as he dreamed of whatever it was that sparklings could dream of.

He smiled, watching his son sleep, still in a sense of disbelief that that was his sparkling.

A message popped up in his visual field, and he wondered who could send something at such an unholy time of the night cycle. He opened the message and read the first few words before shuffling it away in exasperation. In the time since he had been released from the medical bay with his sparkling, he had been inundated with messages from non-Council higher-ups begging for a glimpse of his bitlet. The responses he’d sent could all be summarized with, “When I am ready to let everyone see him.”

He opened his “read messages” file and glanced over the official birth announcement that Alpha Trion had composed to be sent out to the Elite Guard.

_It is my pleasure to announce that Ultra Magnus, the Supreme Commander of the Autobots and Magnus of Cybertron, has safely delivered a mechling. The newspark’s designation is Optimus, and he is bright, alert, and perfectly healthy. The emergence went smoothly, and Ultra Magnus and I are overjoyed at the arrival of our son._

_Both carrier and sparkling are doing well._

He gave the announcement a wan smile before closing the files and sinking himself into darkness again. His optics adjusted to the very low level of light that streamed from the window above his berth and he rolled onto his side to continue looking at the small berth next to his.

It had been a decacycle since the emergence, but he still found himself in awe that he’d made the sparkling recharging in the little berth. Made and carried, to be more specific. He reached out and stroked the bitlet’s helm.

Optics fluttered open for a nanoklik and Optimus yawned, but he closed his optics and continued sleeping. In the brief moment that he was able to get a glimpse of the optics, Ultra saw that there were still flecks of grey. He was worried, though he knew that he didn’t have much of a reason to be.

_“If he’s developing at the normal rate, he can faintly discern our silhouettes, but he can’t make out any details.”_

_Ultra watched as Red Alert shut off the flashlight that she had been shining at his son and walked across the room. He shifted his gaze from the medic to Optimus and tucked the warming sheet around the sparkling. “How much longer do you think it will take until he gains his vision?”_

_Red pulled up to her full height, and in the clean and semi-reflective walls around them he saw her purse her lipplates. “If he’s developing as sparklings normally do, one or two more decacycles. That’s going by the standard guidelines, but,” she turned around to face him, “if he hasn’t gained full use of his optics by say, the third decacycle, then we may have a problem on our servos.”_

_“Such as?” Ultra asked in a somewhat reproachful tone that he didn’t realize he’d taken on until the words left his mouth. He quietly cleared his vocalizer and added, in a softer voice, “I would like to get any problems that he might have addressed as soon as they arise.”_

_“Well, off the top of my helm, just a delayed response.” Ultra knew he must have given her a confused look, as she continued, “Meaning that a brief and not-very-invasive procedure might be necessary to switch his optics on because his frame isn’t sending the code to do it by itself. Or… and this is rarer, but it has happened: the switch or the signal to online his optics might be absent.”_

_“And what action will need to be taken if the switch for his optics is missing?”_

_Red Alert placed her servos on her hips and sighed. She glanced down at her pedes before she looked back up. “An invasive procedure. He’ll need his optics completely replaced with a functioning set.”_

_The thought sent fear into Ultra’s spark._

_“But I wouldn’t worry, sir. From what I can see, the grey flecks in his optics are slowly disappearing.” She smiled. “Soon he will open them and then he will have the most beautiful blue optics. And when he lays his optics on you, he’ll think that you’re the best sight that he’ll ever see.”_

_“Until he becomes capable of retaining memories for the long-term, that is.”_

_A clean sheet was thrown at him playfully, catching on one of his helm fins. “I would have imagined that emergence and creator-hood would have made you much more sentimental.”_

Quiet noises reached his audio receptors, and Ultra reopened optics he hadn’t noticed he’d closed. Optimus was waking, grey-blue optics providing another source of light in the dark room.

“Hi.”

The bitlet made a strained noise and moved his helm to face the source of the voice. If he could only see silhouettes, Ultra knew that his shadow and form blended with the darkness in the room. He smiled to himself and used his outstretched arm to lift the sparkling out of the crib, pulling Optimus close to his chassis and neck. Optimus whimpered, awkwardly moving his limbs.

“Shh, shh, I’m here. I’m here, Optimus.” Ultra relaxed his electromagnetic field and wrapped it around the newspark. Surprise greeted him, and Optimus eagerly mixed his own electromagnetic field with his carrier’s.

The scent of a newspark, sharp and tangy metallic and fresh, sweetened energon, filled his olfactory sensors as Optimus calmed down. Within moments, his spark pulse quieted and Ultra heard the familiar sounds that meant that the bitlet was again asleep.

To be a sparkling again. To be perfectly content with recharging and feeding, to have no responsibilities

“Your sire and I used to create our own constellations. We often lost track of them, but he and I managed to memorize two.” Ultra sighed and looked out the window. “I created one for him, and he created one for me. A sector of space with faint stars. When you connect them, the stars bear a resemblance to your sire. There’s one nearby that he created into a visage of the Magnus Hammer, my symbol of office. Now… I wonder. I wonder if there will be something that I can create that will be for you.”

He scanned the patch of sky he could see from his berth, but he suddenly found himself much more tired than he’d previously thought. He stifled a yawn, tucking the sleeping mechling by his side before he fell into recharge.

.-.-.

Crying roused him from sleep. He sighed and onlined his optics, turning over to look at the crying newspark. Pulsing his EM field at his little son, a smile crossed his faceplates when the bitlet calmed down at the reassurance that his carrier was there.

“What are you doing,” he murmured quietly, a smile crossing his faceplates, “being up and awake before the start of the morning cycle?”

Optimus cooed and threw an arm out towards Ultra, letting it come to rest on his carrier’s chassis. In response to his carrier’s inquiry, the sparkling mouthed at the broad chestplates and made a suckling noise with his lipplates.

“Oh, alright.” Ultra opened his chassis and unspooled the feeding tube located inside, holding it out to the bitlet. Optimus squeaked softly and threw himself forward, biting down on the mesh-covered tip.

“If you keep biting me, I’m going to switch you to an artificial formula sooner rather than later.” He definitely did not plan on following through with his threat, he realized, as he noted the happy gurgling noises that Optimus made as he greedily drank his fill. Ultra closed his optics and then reopened them to stare at the ceiling. “Nevermind. I can’t bring myself to say “no” to you.”

Optimus squawked as he let go of the feeding tube and this time, he kicked his legs, bounding them off his carrier’s chassis. Ultra stifled a startled yelp and reached over the bitlet, grasping the sheet that he often swaddled the mechling into and pulling it over so he could wrap it around Optimus. When he wrapped the mechling in it, Optimus ceased his movements and made a quiet cooing noise.

Within moments, the texture of the fabric and the sensation of warmth and snugness had allowed the sparkling to drift back to recharge.

He tried to go back to into a recharge cycle, but his sleep rhythms had been successfully disrupted. Tucking the bitlet into his arms, he slowly rose to sit up on the berth, then got to his pedes.

The rest of the cycle passed him by as he paced back and forth in his quarters, going from room to room with a sleeping Optimus cradled in his arms. When the mechling fussed, he gently bounced him and rocked him, humming a faint tune to a long-forgotten lullaby that was a remnant of his sparklinghood. He didn’t know the words. Just the tune. As if it’d been sung to him once and he could only remember the rising and falling tone.

In the end it didn’t matter what he sung in particular, or even if he sang at all. Talking and whispering would have had the same effect, as little Optimus took comfort in just hearing his voice. Part of him had wondered why he had that effect on his sparkling, before he realized that his voice was the only constant one he’d heard this entire time.

He’d never thought of his voice as being particularly pleasing to the audio receptor, until Megazarak had said so. Now, at least he had two beings whom he could say loved the sound of his vocals.

Ultra gently caressed Optimus’s helm with a gentle digit, running another one over the crest that adorned the front.

“He would have adored you,” he said, although he didn’t know if he was really saying it to the bitlet, or to himself. He in-vented. “He would have done anything for you, if only you would ask.” Giving the bitlet a rueful grin, he continued, “Your sire always wanted to have a sparkling. Adopted or his own. He felt you were his chance to right the wrongs he did by the one that now claims his title. And if you ask me, I believe he would have been the most caring sire the universe would have seen.”

Optimus’s optic covers fluttered. One of his servos curled and grabbed at the sheet wrapped around his frame.

Ultra stayed a little longer in his place, standing in the center of the common room with his son cuddled up to his chassis. There was nothing to do but stand there and feel the bitlet’s spark beating next to his own, contented to be near him.

“Yes.” He sighed. “He would have… no. He does indeed love you. From whatever plane of existence your sire exists now,” he bit his lower lipplate for a moment, as he still needed to remind himself of the fact that Megazarak was no longer alive, “he loves you with all his spark.”


	20. A Competent Carrier

The stars were much brighter in the coming night cycles.

Ultra had arranged that the guards that normally were stationed at and around an outside balcony located nearest his quarters be moved, so he and Optimus would be alone as he stood in the brisk and cool night. Optimus was wrapped in a thermal sheet, his optics closed and servos curled into fists as his carrier watched the stars shine above them.

He heard the pedesteps of guards marching below the balcony. He backed up a few paces, away from the edge and retreated into the shadows to wait until the sounds subsided.

The requests for a glimpse of his little mechling hadn’t waned at all. Ultra knew that he couldn’t keep Optimus away forever, but rather what he wanted to do was wait until the bitlet had gained full use of his vision before he decided to let those under his command get a look. Though the memories wouldn’t stay, he thought that the bitlet should at least be allowed the ability to see whomever was looking at him.

Ultra looked up and smiled at the imagined constellations of Megazarak and of the Magnus Hammer. He had already thought of a few patterns in the sky for Optimus, but he’d forgetten them just as he’d forgotten some of the ones he’d made up for the Decepticon. It just meant that it wasn’t meant to stick, to represent him.

What, if anything, would come to represent his son?

Megazarak’s face was memorable to all who knew him as the former leader of the Decepticons.

His Magnus Hammer was the one thing that closely represented him, and his symbol of office.

A sudden burst of wind caught them. Ultra smiled and closed his optics, raising his helm to it. Optimus opened an optic and seemed to withdraw further into his little nest of blankets, whimpering softly.

“You’re fine, Optimus,” Ultra chuckled. “It’s merely the wind. It’s greeting you, since this is your first time outside.”

The mechling blinked his grey-blue optics a few times before closing them, going back into recharge. He went lax in the nest of sheets and made soft cooing noises in his sleep.

“Your sire and I spent a lot of nights outside, watching the stars just like this,” Ultra sighed and laughed quietly, bitterly. “Though we couldn’t have done it here, or on New Kaon. We had to do that on those moons and asteroids that we met on. What I wouldn’t give to have him here, pointing out stars and constellations. He would have pointed out the oldest stars in our visual field, told me which ones were in danger of dying. And we would dance under them…”

He trailed off, staring at the stars that made up the Magnus Hammer and thinking of a future that wasn’t to be. He and Megazarak standing somewhere safe and away from the prying optics of Autobot and Decepticon society, their son in his arms. Arms around each other, lipplates meeting each other’s in an expression and declaration of love.

The stars, as they always did, would shine above them.

A message arrived in his inbox. Preparing to respond with “Not now, I will reveal my son to the Elite Guard when I choose so,” he opened it and found a different message, comprised of four simple words: _May I join you?_

The signature at the bottom denoted it as Alpha Trion. Though he figured no one else would send him that kind of message.

He composed a reply, just a word shorter than the inquiry: _Yes, you may. Be quiet when approaching; Optimus is in recharge._

A few moments later, he heard the door behind him slide open and pedesteps announce the Senior High Councilor’s arrival. He moved one small step to the side, turning and smiling softly at Alpha Trion for a moment before he turned to look at the stars over the horizon.

“How is he doing?”

Ultra Magnus cleared his vocalizer and looked down at the sleeping sparkling. “He’s been doing well, as he can be for a newspark. It’s been… not even two decacycles, I believe.”

“One and a half, to be precise.”

“Yes, one and a half. He is slowly gaining sight, though he still can’t make out the finer features of anybot. I hope he’ll be able to see completely by the beginning of the second decacycle. I want him to see me, and I would like to look into fully-functioning optics for the first time.”

Somehow he could sense that Alpha Trion had a mischievous smirk on his faceplates. “And what will you think or do if his first sight, upon gaining his vision, isn’t you?”

The thought of that happening made Ultra Magnus frown. He moved his gaze from the sleeping bitlet to the Senior High Councilor. “Well, I wouldn’t appreciate the ill timing, but it’s nothing he nor I can control. Hard as it may be to believe, Alpha Trion,” he adjusted his grip on Optimus so the weight of the sparkling was evenly distributed between both arms, “I am not one of those carriers whose only thoughts are simply about their sparkling.”

“That’s what I hoped to hear. Though I would be wary of voicing them aloud. There are many other mechs and femmes that have procreated that would take your statements as an affront, as a sign that you might not love your bitlet.”

Ultra knew it well – mechs and femmes that crafted an identity solely around being a carrier and, to lesser extends but still existent, sires. He snorted softly and caressed Optimus’s faceplates with a single digit. “Do I love my son? Most definitely. I will do everything in my power to protect him and guide him. But he won’t be the absolute center of my universe.”

A servo touched his upper arm. Ultra looked back at Alpha Trion, who gave him a gentle smile this time. “You’re already proving yourself as a competent carrier, and a competent Magnus.”

“Was there any doubt?’

“Some, I’ll admit. But I think that our fears have been alleviated.”

Ultra blinked his optics at Trion before he shifted his gaze to look up. Optimus stirred in his arms, yawning and making tired noises. “I’m glad for it.”

Both mechs stood in silence for a while, feeling the cool gusts of wind on their armor. It was a comfortable quiet. Ultra found that he highly preferred this type of quiet when he was with the Senior High Councilor. It was a far cry, far better than the tense and awkward silences that he had become accustomed to whenever they seemed to come around each other.

He quietly thanked Optimus for fixing that.

“May I?”

He looked toward the source of the question to find Alpha Trion holding out his arms and looking at the bitlet hopefully. Ultra smiled and gently passed Optimus into the other mech’s arms, watching as Trion carefully held the mechling to his chassis and looked down at him in something resembling awe.

“He really is a special little sparkling.”

“Well, yes he is, given that he’s the only sparkling among the Autobots at the moment,” Ultra said in a teasing manner. “He is different from what is currently the norm of fully matured Autobots. He’ll stop being special to everybot once another sparkling comes along.”

“He’ll still be a special one because he’s yours,” Alpha Trion replied, soft look on his faceplates as he looked at the sleeping bitlet. Optimus shifted in the High Councilor’s arms, but didn’t wake.

Ultra nodded, looking down at Optimus and wondering just how tall the bitlet would get to be when he was finished growing. “Yes. He always will be.”

After a few more kliks, Trion passed the bitlet back to his carrier. Ultra cradled Optimus to his chassis, sighing contentedly.

“Did you inform the rest of the High Council about what I had mentioned, about a registry?”

“I did.”

“And what were their reactions?”

Alpha Trion mused over his words for a few moments, then replied, “They have their objections to it. But they said they were willing to meet with you at your earliest opportunity to discuss what exactly it is that you would want for this registry. Because, at this rate,” the mech reached over his shoulder strut and rubbed at the back of his helm, “we most definitely will be going to war. The question now is this: who will be the first to make the official declaration? Will it be us, or will it be Megatron?”

“I would rather it be Megatron that makes the first move toward a declaration of war,” Ultra said, then sighed as he continued, “but I have a feeling that that duty will fall to us instead.”

“Indeed.”

The more they stood outside, the more that the blanket of exhaustion fell over Ultra Magnus. He turned his helm into one of his shoulder struts and yawned.

“Come,” he heard Alpha Trion murmur quietly, clearly ready for recharge as well. A gentle servo touched his arm. “Let us go inside.”

Ultra nodded tiredly and let himself be led to his quarters.

.-.-.

A quiet, inquisitive chirp attracted his attention. Ultra placed the stylus and datapad down and looked at the little basket attached to the left side of the desk.

Optimus peered out of the basket with his wide grey-blue optics, staring at some point over his carrier’s helm. He wriggled his limbs and shot an arm out in front of him. Unfortunately, he did it just as Ultra had neared his seat toward him, and he socked the Autobot Commander at the corner of his lipplates. The action elicited a startled yelp from the blue mech before he laughed, rubbing two digits where he’d just been hit.

The mechling cooed and moved his gaze to somewhere closer to his carrier’s faceplates, though not quite looking him there.

“For such a small sparkling, you certainly have a lot of strength. I would appreciate it if you didn’t use it on me, however.”

If it weren’t for the grey flecks still present in Optimus’s blue optics, he would have sworn that the bitlet had intently met his gaze and stuck his glossa out at him. Ultra smiled at the little sliver of grey tongue sticking out from between the bitlet’s lipplates and leaned down, touching their forehelm crests before he kissed Optimus’s helm. “Your sire would be proud of that show of strength.”

He could imagine it now – Megazarak doubled over in laughter, holding his arms to his midsection as if it were going to fall off, while he glared at the Decepticon and ordered him to sleep outside their berthroom for the night. Megazarak would have whispered that it was completely worth it.

Optimus chirped again and held an arm out, grabbing futilely at the form of his carrier in front of him. Ultra held a digit out, letting Optimus find it and wrap his little servo around it.

“How did something so small and so entirely helpless like you,” Ultra wondered aloud with his smile still on his faceplates, “come to mean so much to me?”

The bitlet moved his arm up and down, which in turn made Ultra’s digit move up and down with it. With the way that Optimus reacted, to the discovery that when he moved, something else could move, one would have thought that the bitlet had come across a new planet with an entire civilization. Squeaking happily, Optimus threw all his strength into shaking his carrier’s digit.

The doors to his office suite slid open, and Red Alert walked through them. A bright smile crossed her faceplates and she held her servos out for him. She took on a much more chipper tone of voice as she said, “Oh, aren’t you getting big?”

Optimus turned his helm toward the voice and chirred happily, clearly remembering that particular voice from somewhere, associating it with something positive. Ultra laughed. “This is Red Alert. You know her and she knows you well. She’ll be caring for you for a little while, while I go tend to some matters. Do you understand?

His answer was a gentle bap to the face by a tiny fist.

“Well,” Red Alert chuckled as Ultra rubbed where he’d received the bap, “I think he understands at some level. Now come on,” she held her servos out for him again. “None of us are getting younger, and you still need to go to tend to the High Council.”

“Fine, fine.”

Optimus whimpered as Ultra passed him off to Red Alert, but Ultra sent a loving pulse through their shared bond, which calmed the sparkling. He pressed their helm crests together. “I’ll keep my side of our bond open, hmm? You’ll feel me close by, even though I’ll be on the other side of the base.”

Red grinned brightly at her commanding officer and nodded. “I’ll keep an optic on him. He’s in good servos.”

“I know he is. I trust you better than I trust almost anyone else in this base, Red.” Even though he knew that the bitlet was far from being able to understand him, he addressed Optimus again. He placed a kiss on the cheekplate that closest to him. “You behave for Red Alert.”

Optimus chirped quietly, looking in the general direction of his carrier’s chassis.  


	21. A Competent Magnus

The last time he’d been in the vast High Council Chambers, he’d been on trial for crimes against the Autobots and Optimus had been little more than a bright spark in his reproductive chamber.

Now, here he was again. When he passed through the doors into the chambers, he looked up and took some comfort in the fact that Alpha Trion was back in his place, at the second-highest platform. The highest, of course, was void of presence, simply beckoning for him to step back on.

Highbrow, Perceptor, and Botanica all nodded at him as he passed their lower-hanging platforms, making his way over to his old one. When he stepped back on the surface of the highest platform, it felt a lot like greeting an old friend. He smiled and briefly ran his digits over the metal exterior of the railing before clearing his vocalizer and locking optics with each of the High Councilors.

“I understand that Alpha Trion,” he nodded his helm to the side that the mech was on without looking back at him, “has told you all what I proposed be done concerning the worrisome actions of the Decepticons as of late.”

A murmur of confirmation passed through the room as he looked upon the gathered bots, watching as they all nodded their helms.

Ultra sighed and mulled his next words over in his processor. “From what I understand, while there is agreement on a major component of the proposal, there are some concerns that need airing.”

Highbrow immediately replied with, “They’re far more than just concerns, Ultra Magnus.”

“Fine. Fine.” Placing his left servo over his forehelm, he sighed. “Get on with it.”

“The questions that we thought of were these,” Botanica spoke up, and it was when she glanced toward the direction of her servos that Ultra realized she was holding a datapad. “How will we create this database? Will the existence of this database that is keeping track of known Decepticons and their affiliates be made known to the public at large? If so, who will have clearance to access it? And one of the important ones that we thought of…” Botanica paused for a few moments, a thoughtful look crossing her faceplates before she continued, “if someone whose designation has been added to this registry is proven innocent in their associations with Decepticons under Megatron, will this record follow them for the entirety of their life cycle?”

The Autobot Commander had to admit that those were very pertinent questions. He took air into his intakes and moved his servos to grasp at the sides of the podium. “I had a feeling that these questions would be posited. And here are my responses to each of them.” Ultra took a moment to compose himself, closing and then opening his optics. “Many other databases of various uses have been created by our Intelligence Division and the Ministry of Science, so how this Decepticon registry is created will be up to their programmers, so long as we all may be trained in it.” He looked at both Highbrow and Perceptor. “I trust that the both of you will run with this. I will give your divisions permission to access whatever you need to compile your files on each Decepticon that the Autobots have come across… and I would like Megatron to be the first Decepticon that is put into the database. Am I clear?”

Highbrow didn’t look entirely happy, but Perceptor continued to be the emotionless mech that Ultra had always known him to be. Both mechs nodded in assent.

“Good. This brings me to the next answer: this database will be accessible only to the five of us gathered in this room. Commandants at Autobot outposts throughout the galaxy will be given clearance to access the database for the duration of their time served. Those holding the rank of Prime will be considered for special access on a case-by-case basis.”

“There’s part of the question that hasn’t been answered yet,” Botanica interjected before Ultra could continue. He looked intently at her as she asked in a stern tone of voice, “Would the existence of this database be made known to the public, or will its existence be kept confidential?”

Ultra looked down at the surface of the podium, seeming to see for the first time that it had a reflective surface, and he could see his optics staring back at him, seeming to bore into his spark. He sighed heavily as he weighed his answers, then straightened his posture when he made a final decision. “I do not know. I’m incapable of making a decision. Part of myself wishes for this Decepticon registry to be kept confidential, but the other part feels a need to keep my duties to Cybertron. Well,” he swiped a servo over his forehelm crest, “the duties I have to Cybertron that I have not broken, in any case.”

“If I may suggest something – it would be far better to keep the existence of the database secret. If word were to get out to Cybertron but with a warning that the files are kept strictly confidential, well…” Highbrow scoffed, “we all remember what was happening when you were carrying.” He nodded in Ultra’s direction, not that anyone needed the extra hint.

How could Ultra Magnus forget the numerous attempts to access his medical files? At the very least, Megazarak’s designation wasn’t listed under the title of “Sire” to Optimus.

Perceptor spoke next. “I hope that you realize that this is a huge infringement upon the personal freedoms of everyone on Cybertron.”

Ultra hardened his gaze at Perceptor, then shifted his gaze from each High Councilor to the next. “In times of war, sacrifices have to be made. No one will have to worry about their freedoms if they’re not making deals with our newfound enemy. End of discussion.”

“No it’s not,” Alpha Trion cut in, looking sternly at the Autobot Commander. “May I remind you that while you do hold an incredible amount of power over the legislation that is passed on Cybertron, the reason for the High Council’s existence is to make sure that the ruling Magnus does not abuse his power in any way, shape, or form?”

The Magnus squared his shoulder struts. “I am aware of such a fact,” Ultra replied tersely. “And I would argue that I am not abusing my power of office, because abusing my powers of office would be something akin to demanding the helms of everyone that has ever associated with Megatron’s Decepticons.”

A sparkbeat of silence. The High Councilors looked up at him, and the Senior High Councilor looked at him with an expression of disappointment on his faceplates. Ultra immediately regretted his words, and he briefly wanted the floor of his platform to open up, to swallow him and make him disappear.

“You’ve thought about this then,” Alpha Trion said in a quiet voice that was still heard in the lower levels. It wasn’t a question, but a declaration of what he noted. And it was very true.

Ultra nodded. “I have. Fleeting though it may be, they are the thoughts that invade my processor when I wonder how to best protect the Autobots from facing defeat at the servos of an enemy that has just… eliminated its leader and replaced him with the one that carried out that elimination.”

The Senior High Councilor moved in his place at his podium and cleared his vocalizer. “Ask yourself this: had you not just borne the sparkling of the former and now deceased Decepticon leader, and if you weren’t facing the prospect of an all-out war against his successor,” Alpha Trion said quietly, “would you be so insistent for these invasive policies? Even if it were to, as you say, protect the Autobots from defeat?”

Ultra thought of the little bitlet back in his office, when he’d last seen him as he departed for this meeting. He thought of Optimus and his bright optics, curiously looking around even though he had little sight, thought of the happy chirps and warbles and coos that greeted him whenever he made his presence known.

Little bleary, not yet functioning optics looking up at him, loving and trusting him so unconditionally from the moment of birth.

What would happen if it were learned amongst the Decepticons that he had borne the child of Megazarak? The only thing that he was sure about was that they would stop at absolutely nothing to get their servos on him. He didn’t dare think about what they might do to the chirping and happy little bitlet.

He needed protection, just as the rest of the Autobots did. Only in this instance, Ultra had a much more personal stake in making sure that his son, his only sparkling that he would ever create, was safe.

“My honest answer,” Ultra said in a low and defeated tone of voice, staring at his servos that were now joined and resting on the top of the podium instead of gripping at the sides, “is likely not. My personal stake in this registry lies with my son.” He turned his helm slightly to the side to look at Alpha Trion, who looked at him with a gentle expression on his faceplates. “And I wish to keep him safe, just as I wish to keep the Autobots safe.”

A moment after he looked back at his servos on the podium, he felt Alpha Trion reach out toward him before the older mech’s servos had actually touched his shoulder strut. He moved his gaze from the podium, and looked down at the other High Councilors, having to almost stifle laughter at the expressions on their faceplates. It was a shock to see Alpha Trion be so open with his emotions, after so many stellar cycles of seeing him expression little else than anger.

“We all wish to keep the Autobots safe,” Botanica spoke after a few kliks of silence – the longest silence to be held during a session within the High Council Chambers. “And we know that your son has become the most important focus of your life. We will never give you grief or fault for that. But we will say that we cannot protect everyone to the full extent that we want to. It is my personal opinion that this registry would be a good idea, with some modifications. With only us and commandants at Autobot outposts allowed to access it, it should be useful. But how long will those proven innocent in associating with Megatron’s Decepticons have their record tainted?”

Ultra drew air into his intakes and then ex-vented, giving himself a few moments to think. “Their record, if they are proven innocent in their associations with Megatron’s Decepticons, will not follow them for the entirety of their life cycle. It will be for,” Magnus took another moment to think of a number and said the first one that had a semblance of feeling fair, “ten stellar cycles.”

“That is far too long,” Highbrow challenged immediately, narrowing his optics at his commanding officer. “I think five stellar cycles should do it.”

This atmosphere felt far more familiar. Ultra stood to his full height and squared his shoulder struts. “And it is my opinion that five stellar cycles won’t be long enough to ensure that they deter from getting involved in Decepticon activity again.” Ultra narrowed his optics at the mech. “Even if they are found innocent, that doesn’t completely rule out a predilection on their part that they will return to the same activities that put them under suspicion in the first place.”

The High Council looked amongst each other for a few sparkbeats before Perceptor suggested another number. “Seven or eight stellar cycles would seem to be the ideal amount if we are to reach an agreement.”

“I put forth seven stellar cycles,” Botanica gave her input, “with an addition that during those seven stellar cycles, if they engage in further suspicious activity with the Decepticons, they will add yet another stellar cycle to this time span where their record will show that they have come under suspicion.”

“And if they are caught three times in the span of a stellar cycle, their designation will be added to a list of known Decepticon sympathizers, and their movements tracked.”

“Will being this list of sympathizers be something that they can get their record cleared of, or will it follow them for their life cycle?”

“I would think that they should have their record cleared, but after say fifteen stellar cycles given that they’ve sworn off and haven’t engaged in any suspicious activity with the Decepticons.”

Ultra bit back what he really wanted to say: _They should cease engaging with Decepticons._ Hard as it was, he held his glossa.

“Fifteen stellar cycles is a bit excessive, is it not?” Perceptor queried.

“For someone who knowingly engaged with the enemy, it is a mercy,” Ultra said. “Or else I might make that taint follow them for the rest of their life cycle.”

The rest of the High Councilors were quick to say “NO.”

He blinked his optics and looked around. “So what we have so far, if I am to get this straight,” Ultra began slowly, giving a chance for somebot to jump in, but when none took it he continued, “is that there is an agreement that a list of all known Decepticons will be created and put to use by us and select personnel within our ranks. Highbrow and Perceptor will head the creation of the registry. The problems however, lie with how this will affect our Autobots?”

Highbrow squared his shoulder struts from where he was and bluntly declared, “You’re being far too harsh on our Autobots.”

“And you’re being too lenient!”

Ultra’s raised voice echoed in the Council Chambers, startling even himself.

He heard a light chuckle from his side, and turned to look at Alpha Trion, who had been watching the debate unfold before him without much comment. He arched an optic ridge at the mech. “Is there something you wish to share, Senior High Councilor?”

A bright light seemed to come to the elder mech’s optics as he shook his helm. “It is merely amusing to see that the tables have turned. Highbrow, being too harsh on you previously, is now the one that you accuse of being lenient. You were lenient with many issues, especially regarding your relationship with Megazarak, and here you are wanting Decepticon sympathizers to give you their helms.”

Highbrow spoke again from his platform. “I hold the Magnus of Cybertron to a higher, much higher standard of behavior than I would a mere Elite Guard scout. Our Magnus must always remain a competent Magnus.”

The Autobot Commander stared at Alpha Trion instead of looking back at the Head of Intelligence, but he had to admit that the both of them were in the right. He then sighed.

A gentler voice come next, saying, “I believe we’re all in agreement on that part of this possible registry, along with ships they have used in the past being marked as having been in the possession of Decepticons at some point.” Botanica pursed her lipplates in contemplation. “It’s the parts pertaining to Autobots and some of them being possible Decepticon sympathizers that gets to us a bit.”

“But I believe we should take the rest of this solar cycle off to cool our helms and think clearer. I move that we meet next solar cycle, the same time. I also think we should come up with a name for this proposal that we have been discussing, even if it is preliminary,” Highbrow suggested.

“I agree on meeting tomorrow, and I think you’re right,” Ultra said, taking a moment to think of a suggestion. “I would suggest the working name be ‘The Decepticon Registration Act.’”

There was silence for a moment. Perceptor and Alpha Trion both nodded. Botanica looked pensive, then accepting of the suggestion.

Then he heard Highbrow mutter in undertone, “I think we may as well make it the official name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All that's really known in canon of the Decepticon Registration Act is that Ultra Magnus passed it immediately after taking office, so as is the norm with fanfictions, I've taken liberty regarding the passing of this act.


	22. Bright Optics

“I know you don’t understand, but,” Ultra cocked his helm to the side and smiled at the bitlet staring in the general direction of his faceplates, “you really do seem to get bigger with each passing solar cycle.”

Optimus chirped and kicked his legs up into the air, holding them up for a few fleeting nanokliks before letting them drop back down. He couldn’t make out finer details, as the still-present grey flecks of static in his optics indicated, but he could apparently see that his carrier held a datapad in one of his servos, as he stretched one of his servos outward and batted at it.

“Ah, no, this isn’t for you to play with.” Ultra offered Optimus a digit from his free servo and smiled as the sparkling gripped it and squeaked. “It is very important. However, you can play around with these digits,” he wiggled the other ones in front of the bitlet’s faceplates, “as much as you wish.”

He immediately came to regret saying that when Optimus yanked them down, hard enough that the circuits in his servo pinged him with discomfort. Ultra stifled a pained grunt and swiftly yet gently slid his digit out of the sparkling’s grasp. “Nevermind then. I’ll need to make sure to keep some of your age-appropriate trinkets within easier reach of here. Pity I left them all in the common room.”

_Chirp!_

Ultra leaned down and kissed the bitlet’s helm crest, smiling as Optimus quietly chirped again and cuddled up to his carrier. He adored how Optimus was so intent on snuggling against his chassis, especially over his spark. It warmed his spark to know that in the confusing unfamiliarity of the world he was born into, he was Optimus’s anchor of sorts.

Just as Optimus was his.

He stroked the bitlet’s backplates with his free servo, murmuring to himself every few words that he read on the datapad. It was a lot of legal terms, which he knew, but Primus he was tired of them. He wanted nothing more than to take this solar cycle to spend with his son, but the next meeting with the High Council was later that night cycle. The datapad was required reading.

“Don’t become Magnus like I have, Optimus,” Ultra said after a few more quiet kliks had passed. Optimus opened his bleary optics, looked up in the direction of his carrier for a brief moment, then closed them. “It’s a tedious position. Of course, if it winds up being your absolute and true goal in your life cycle, I will not stop you. But I caution against it, little one.”

Optimus’s response was only a sleepy chirr.

A message pinged at Ultra from the Unread folder in his messages inbox.

_May I enter?_

_-Alpha Trion, Senior High Councilor-_

Ultra set the datapad down after he’d read it and composed a reply.

 

_Of course, allow me a moment to get myself and Optimus together._

_-Ultra Magnus, Supreme Commander of Cybertron-_

Ultra stumbled into the common room, sleeping bitlet tucked in one servo, and stored the datapad that he had been reading away in his subspace. He cleared some of the bright thermal sheets from the floor, lumping them in a corner with some of Optimus’s little trinkets. The sight was funny – he was never a messy person, not allowing even one sheet to be unfolded and thrown astray.

Having a sparkling really did change the way he functioned.

Well. As long as he never let his living quarters become messier than a few toys and blankets on the floor.

After making certain that the messes had been relocated to corners of the common room, Ultra let the entrance to his quarters slide open to reveal the thin and small frame of the Senior High Councilor. Alpha Trion nodded at him and stepped inside.

“I apologize for the mess,” Ultra said quietly as he gestured toward the long seat, where he sat down on. When the other mech had sat down he continued, “Normally I’m a lot neater than this would impress on you.”

“Understandable, Ultra. You have been busy with your duties and tending to Optimus, after all.”

“I have,” the Magnus of Cybertron sighed, looking down at the peaceful slumbering faceplates of his son. He smiled briefly at the sight, then glanced back up at the other mech. “What has brought you here, Trion?”

“Simply…” the mech trailed off a moment, then Ultra noticed how his shoulder struts became slack instead of squared and held high. “I simply wanted to see how you and Optimus were doing. That is all.”

“Oh. We are about as fine as a two decacycle old sparkling and his harried carrier can be.”

A few moments of silence passed between them, before he decided to speak again. “Alpha Trion,” Ultra breathed, “I know that we agreed you would take credit as Optimus’s co-creator, but believe me when I say that I do not expect you to actually treat my son as if he were of your own coding.”

“Noted, but I feel that since I decided to allow my designation to be written down as his co-creator,” Alpha Trion sighed and an uncertain expression crossed his faceplates, “I should come to know more about the little mech who will be known to the Autobots as my son.”

Ultra stared at the other mech for a few kliks before he looked back down at the sleeping sparkling. He sighed, looked back up at Alpha Trion, then held the bitlet out. The Senior High Councilor smiled and took Optimus into his arms.

Optimus woke and began to fuss, but Ultra was quick to coo at him and tell him that he was perfectly safe, and Optimus went back into recharge.

“You certainly are a natural, Ultra,” Alpha Trion said as he gently bounced the bitlet in his arms.

Ultra smiled, and it was then that he realized just how tired he was. He stifled a yawn and replied, “It comes with being a carrier. Even if I weren’t a natural, as you’d say, I think I would have grown into the role at some point.”

Both mechs sat in silence, Alpha Trion looking at the bitlet intently, as if waiting for him to wake up so he could surprise him. Ultra took the datapad he’d stored in his subspace out, holding it in his servos, feeling the weight. It was a thin and small one, but it felt a lot heavier than it actually was.

He didn’t realize he’d sighed until he noticed Alpha Trion looking at him quizzically. “Is there something wrong?”

To which Ultra Magnus wanted to reply that of course there was. The sire of his sparkling, Megazarak, was gone. He was parenting a sparkling alone. War was on the horizon. He had no way of keeping his Autobots safe from a reckless despot of a mech who had no qualms about killing them all. There were plenty of things wrong.

Trion seemed to realize the inanity of what he had asked, as he looked back down at the sleeping red and blue mechling and murmured in undertone, “I’m sorry. It was a stupid question.”

Ultra looked back at the datapad and wearily shook his helm. “I’m merely overwhelmed, Trion, with many things. And though I know that it is necessary that I read this,” he held the datapad a little higher for a bit and shook it once, “I can’t bring myself to focus.”

Alpha Trion said nothing, but Ultra felt spindly digits and a comforting servo touch his upper arm. He closed his optics, ex-vented a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding back, and then reopened them.

“Are you having second thoughts about this registration act that you’ve been wanting to enact, Ultra?”

“Yes. And no. Yes, because when our legacies are looked back upon, eons from now, I fear that by enacting this registry we will be seen as the worst of the aggressors in this war. And this war brings me to the “no” aspect of my answer.” Ultra pinched his nasal ridge between two digits and closed his optics again as he thought over his next words. “I don’t want Optimus following my steps into a war that he is completely innocent of. It would be ideal for this war to end soon, before he can decide that he would want to dedicate his life cycle to service in the Elite Guard during a time of war. It’s uncertain if this registry will help us with our cause, but all I know for certain is that I don’t… I don’t want him following my steps.”

Optimus cooed and babbled, opening his optics just so. He looked curiously at the mech holding him, mingling his electromagnetic field with his and chirping inquisitively. Seeming to realize that he knew Alpha Trion, he reached a servo out for him. The Senior High Councilor laughed quietly at the sparkling, touching the little silver nose with a thin digit before he assumed his normally stoic demeanor. “And I completely understand your fears, Ultra. Optimus is the first sparkling to be born in many stellar cycles, and no doubt there will be many more to follow.”

“What good are the older generations if we cannot protect the younger ones,” Ultra reopened his optics, “from our sins?” He let the words hang in the air between them for a klik before continuing, “He and those that will follow after him should not have to pay for what we… _I_ , have done.”

“Ultra, only time will be able to judge us. Yes, it is ideal that this war end very soon before Optimus can grow to know it intimately, but if the instance occurs that the war is still ongoing, and he decides to dedicate his life to the Elite Guard, just as you have, you have to realize that you cannot control him.”

“I know.” Ultra sighed heavily. “I know I cannot make his decisions in life for him.”

Optimus squeaked as he grabbed onto one of the Senior High Councilor’s shoulder pauldrons.

“If he decided to dedicate his life to the Guard,” Alpha Trion offered in the most helpful manner he could as he split his attention between speaking to the Magnus and playing with the sparkling, “you could procure him a job away from the front lines, where he will be in the least amount of danger from the Decepticons.”

Indeed, he could. Then Ultra thought of the look of betrayal that Optimus would give him if he did that, and shook his helm. “No. I shouldn’t, though it is a very attractive prospect,” Ultra sighed and turned around to look at the Senior High Councilor, smiling wanly at the sight of Alpha Trion waggling his digits in front of his son’s optics. “Optimus would hate me if I were to remove him from the front lines, if that is where he would wish to go.”

He got to his pedes and walked over to the large window, looking outside over the training field that Kup was drilling the cadets on, and toward the cityscape of Iacon. The buildings gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight, almost blindingly.

“Do I make sense? My worries, fears, my apprehension for this act?”

He heard the elder mech give that long sigh that precluded a few nanokliks of silence as he gathered his thoughts. Ultra found a fascination with the architecture of the buildings in the distance, and began to follow their outlines with his optics as he waited for Alpha Trion to speak.

“I believe yes, you do. You were and are bent on revenge, however. But it is understandable.”

Ultra didn’t turn to look, but rather he focused on the reflection of the other mech in the window, watching how he played with the newspark as he spoke. “However, it is my belief that passing this act towards a Decepticon registry, though controversial as it may be, will be one of the better acts that we as Autobots will be able to do during a time of war. And it will not keep the Autobots safe, but knowing what Decepticons we are up against will be a measure for some protection.”

The Supreme Commander of Cybertron stayed watching Alpha Trion’s reflection in the window as the Senior Councilor resumed playing with Optimus. The bitlet smiled brightly, grabbing onto each of the long, spindly digits that were offered to him.

“In times of war there are grey areas all around us,” Alpha Trion continued after a few nanokliks and a few squeaks from Optimus. “Not everything is black and white. It would be easy to paint us as the good side, and the Decepticons as the aggressors. We will be playing both parts in this theater. What matters is which role we will take on more often.”

He was right. Sometimes he hated admitting it, but Alpha Trion was entirely right. Ultra moved his optics from the reflection of the other mech and looked again out the window, this time looking at Kup reprimanding some cadets by forcing them to do extra exercises as they were stared at by their peers.

“Ultra,” came the other mech’s voice. The tone was much more different from the ones he’d heard from Alpha Trion in a long while. It was as if he were in some shock. “I believe you may want to turn your helm and see this.”

Ultra Magnus sighed and turned around to see Alpha Trion holding Optimus out toward him. He sighed and looked at the High Councilor’s face. “Yes, Alpha Trion, I’m aware that that is my son. I am the one that gave birth to him, after a-”

“No,” Alpha Trion said with a tone of insistence. He held Optimus out a little further. “Ultra, _look_ at him.”

His optics flicked over from the Senior High Councilor to the bitlet’s faceplates, where he noticed that Optimus was looking at him. One of his little arms was outstretched, reaching for him, as he chirped curiously at his carrier-

Wait.

Looking. At. Him.

The bitlet chirped and held his other arm out, both hands reaching for his carrier. He wasn’t looking at some place above Ultra’s helm, or staring at his broad chassis. He looked Ultra in the optics, meeting them, little twin suns full of inquisitiveness and life instead of grey flecks of static that blocked parts of his vision.

He would never be able to put into proper words how he felt upon seeing into his son’s optics for the very first time, but he would always remember what he did. A large, open-mouthed smile crossed his faceplates as he reached out with both of his arms for the bitlet, taking him into his arms and kissing him between his now cleared, wholly blue optics.

Primus above, the confirmation of his sparkling’s now functioning optics were the most beautiful sight he’d seen, right next to the memory of Optimus’s blue, dirty face peeping out of the nest of blankets for the first time. Optimus raised his arms and made a disgruntled noise, scrunching his optics shut at the kiss between them, trying to push his carrier away but Ultra was having none of it. The Magnus of Cybertron laughed and cried, taking advantage of the fact that the bitlet’s optics were closed to kiss each optic cover.

“He can see. Primus, _he can see_ ,” Ultra laughed through his tears, looking briefly at a smiling Alpha Trion before he looked back at Optimus, who was opening his optics again and rubbing his little servos against them. “Look at you,” he whispered.

Optimus blinked his optics at his carrier, looking him right in the optics as he raised his arms and gently placed them on his carrier’s faceplates. He gave a quizzical warble, tilting his helm slightly to the side, almost as if asking, _Are you really my carrier? Is this what you look like?_

“Yes. It’s me. I am your carrier.” Ultra’s smile grew bigger, a feat he didn’t know was possible. He couldn’t stop looking at the bitlet’s bright optics, so beautifully blue. He stroked a digit down the side of the bitlet’s face. “This is what I look like, little one. I’m so very, very happy to finally see you.”

The gentle pap of little servos against his optics was… well, he would take it as Optimus’s indication that he was happy to see him. He reached out over their creator-creation bond, nudging the bitlet’s spark with elation and joy, and he received something that felt like _warmth, comfort, happiness,_ and _adoration_ in return. Ultra laughed again, fresh wave of optical fluid flowing from his optics as he kissed Optimus on his helm crest and stroked the bitlet’s faceplates reverently.

In a small part of his processor, Ultra wished that Optimus would have been able to retain this memory. Stellar cycles from now, he would have hoped to ask Optimus if the first clear sight of his carrier was the best sight of his life cycle.

He hoped that Optimus would have said yes; that after all the sights he’d seen in his life by then, his first sight of his carrier was still the best of his memories.

.-.-.

 **Subject:** Outline of Decepticon Registration Act

 **Sent to:** Ultra Magnus, Supreme Commander of the Autobots

 **CC:** Botanica; Highbrow; Perceptor

 **From:** Alpha Trion, Senior High Councilor

I am forwarding the preliminary draft of the text for the D.R.A. Input from all concerned parties would be most appreciated as we work through this.

_-Signed, Alpha Trion, Senior High Councilor_

**[begin outline]**

Known as the Decepticon Registration Act, it will be enacted for these express purposes:

  * To maintain a record of the identities and whereabouts of known Decepticons currently serving under one Megatron, who enacted a coup that resulted in the deposing and deactivation of one Megazarak.
  * To maintain a record of the activities that these known Decepticons have participated in, including but not limited to: the smuggling of illegal weaponry _(note from Alpha Trion: addendums to this act will be made as we become aware of what other illicit behaviors Decepticons have admitted to doing)_
  * To maintain a record of vehicles and spacecraft that have been used by these known Decepticons.
  * To maintain a record of Autobots suspected to sympathize with the Decepticons under the control of Megatron.
  * To maintain a record of Autobots that have been positively identified as being Decepticon sympathizers.



Conditions for the Decepticon Registration Act are as follows:

  * The existence of this registry will not be made known to the public at large unless such a time comes that it must be revealed.
  * Autobots who refrain from participating in suspected Decepticon activities or collaborating with known Decepticons for a period of seven stellar cycles will have their designation stricken from the registry, unless 
    1. The Autobot continues partaking in actions/collaborating with Decepticons, in which case they will be added to the list of known Decepticon sympathizers.
  * Autobots known to be Decepticon sympathizers will have their movements tracked and recorded.



The following list details who will have access to this registry of Decepticons and Decepticon sympathizers. Those who have access to the registry will be granted it upon signing a waiver where they acknowledge that they are not to confirm the existence of this Decepticon registry, and they are not to speak of it to anyone other than those on the list.

The following bots will have full access to the Decepticon registry:

  * Ultra Magnus, Supreme Commander of the Autobots
  * Alpha Trion, Senior High Councilor
  * High Councilor Botanica
  * High Councilor Highbrow
  * High Councilor Perceptor
  * Assigned commandants at all active Autobot outposts



_Note:_

  * Those holding the rank of Prime may be allowed to access the registry for a temporary period, but the High Council will decide if the Prime will 
    1. Be informed of the existence of the registry
    2. Be allowed to access the registry if it is deemed necessary



The Intelligence Division and the Ministry of Science will collaborate on the creation of this registry. Highbrow and Perceptor will be the ones inputting the information into the registry so as to not alert anyone else that works in the Division and Ministry of the existence of the database.

It is so decreed, this date of ______________

Signed into action by _______________

**[end outline]**


	23. Four Stellar Cycles

He kissed his son goodbye, his spark breaking when he saw the look in Optimus’s optics and heard the pleading tone of the youngling’s voice as he begged him not to go.

“Please don’t go carrier,” the small mechling entreated. “Please, please, please. I don’t want you to go.”

And, as he always did, Ultra Magnus smiled at the red and blue little mech who was the center of his universe and the one being he could love unconditionally, and said that he would be back soon. In his processor, he wondered if this would be the one and final time that he would break that promise to his son.

Ultra stood to his full height and looked at the Senior High Councilor, meeting his gaze, and nodded. Alpha Trion smiled wanly and nodded, reaching out for Optimus’s little servo.

Optimus looked up at the older mech and reached up, wrapping his digits around three of Alpha Trion’s digits. He held his other arm up, a sign that Alpha Trion knew well by then. Grinning, the mech slowly leaned down and gathered the little mechling into his arms.

“Be good for your sire. I’ll return soon, Optimus.” Ultra smiled at his son, reiterating his promise that he prayed he could keep. He closed the distance between he and Alpha Trion with Optimus in his arms, gently cupping Optimus’s face in one servo as he kissed the helm crest. “Don’t worry.”

.-.-.

The battlefield was vast, but with the amount of Autobots and Decepticons going helm-to-helm it felt a lot smaller as Ultra maneuvered his way through, swinging the Magnus Hammer every which way, knocking Decepticons to the ground.

Those that tried to kill him with blades and melee weapons, had their processors bashed in until they were little more than sparking, fritzing pieces of metal belonging to broken frames convulsing on the ground.

Those that tried to kill him with ranged weaponry, had lightning called down from the rust-orange sky and directed into their frames, whereupon their internals combusted violently, unable to withstand the shock, and their smoking husk of a frame collapsed to the mud-brown dirt.

Those that begged for mercy, had the Magnus Hammer swung into their middle and were sent flying incredible distances until they hit the ground or another Decepticon, and shattered from the force of the impact.

Ultra had the same goals in processor each klik of the battle – win, get out of here alive, and go home to Optimus. The vision he held in processor of his little son staring out of the windows at the stars, waiting for his return, fueled his might and vigor. He would do everything that he possibly could to come home to Optimus.

And briefly he wondered if any of the Decepticons he had slain with his Hammer had anyone waiting for them. A partner, a creator, a sparkling hidden away from the judgmental optics of their faction peers.

He had to return, alive, for the sake of his son.

“Magnus! The Decepticons!” Kup’s voice yelled over the din of rushing pedes and laser blasts and blades meeting blades. Ultra Magnus looked for the teal mech, finding him pointing over a string of large hills in the horizon, where he noted was a mass of movement surging out of sight. “They’re retreatin’ over the hill!”

Ultra Magnus looked at the carnage strewn around him, heaving deep breaths in his chassis, and hoisted the Hammer over his shoulder strut, resting it there as he raced toward Kup. A horde of other Autobots, broken and bleeding energon but still thankfully online, converged as well.

“What do we do now, sir?” Kup asked in his gruff voice, holding his ever-present cy-gar between his right index and middle digits.

Ultra looked at Kup, then looked at the blue optics gazing hopefully and expectantly at him. He set his lipplates in a straight line as his gaze shifted from his Autobots to the shadows and silhouettes of the retreating Decepticon frames.

“Status report. How many confirmed Decepticons killed or injured?”

“At least a third of how many attacked us,” a young Major named Strongarm said with wild blue optics, her left arm hanging by a few cables. “It was estimated at a little under two hundred.”

“And how many Autobot casualties?”

“Impactor and half of his squadron, sir, bringing our total dead to ten Autobots,” she replied. “Injuries,” she looked around and took a mental count of who was there, “three dozen reported.”

“Understood.” Ultra nodded. “Those that need medical attention, go to Red Alert and First Aid, now. Have the deceased retrieved.” He then cleared his vocalizer and reached over to his back, grasping the Magnus Hammer. “I need three bots, uninjured or relatively so, to come with me. One flank me on each side, and one behind.”

He saw the quizzical expression cross Kup’s faceplates as the Major asked, “What’s it yer gonna do, Ultra Magnus sir?”

“You will see, Kup.” Ultra regarded the two femmes and mech that stepped forward. “Names?”

“Nitrate,” said the femme that flanked him to the right.

The one that flanked him on the left unsheathed his blade and said, “Solblast.”

He heard a hissing noise from behind as the femme readied her blaster. “Avalanche.”

“Nitrate, Solblast, Avalanche, I am trusting the three of you to help myself get me,” he pointed with the Hammer to the last dregs of the Decepticon army that were scrambling for their lives over the edge of the hills, “to the top of that ledge. Aim at and shoot any Decepticons that might intercept us. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” all three chorused.

“Come with me then.”

As they took off, tracking a fair distance behind the retreating backs of the Decepticons, Ultra looked up at the rusted, orange sky and prayed that there was enough energy left in the atmosphere, and enough power left in the Magnus Hammer, for what he was about to do.

The hill slopes were rocky and uneven, but he rushed at top speed toward the ledge that cut off the earth from the sky from his vantage point. When he reached a close point to the edge, he swung the Magnus Hammer upward and hooked it onto the rocky ground, hoisting himself onto the ledge. He gained his footing, and looked out across a wide plain of retreating Decepticon backs.

“The three of you, get close to me, now!”

When he felt three frames press close to him, he raised the Magnus Hammer toward the sky and felt his frame vibrate as thunder shook the planet, watching a sea retreating frames stall and a sea of red optics look upward in horror and confusion as electricity crackled along the blackening heavens. None of them thought to look back and see the energy surging along the surface of the Hammer, watch how it glowed brilliantly and illuminated its holder in a blinding blue light.

Ultra roared and swept the Hammer in the direction of the stunned Decepticons, watching as lightning cascaded from the sky in blinding, splitting bolts, striking each Decepticon and making them convulse as their wiring short-circuited. They seemed to fall in waves, the ‘cons furthest from them falling first and causing the ones behind them to collapse, until the nearest Decepticon to Ultra Magnus dropped dead.

The blackened sky brightened back to rust-orange, and the Magnus Hammer ceased to glow. Ultra let it fall from his servo as he sank to his knee joints, then surged forward and supported himself on his outstretched servos, chassis heaving, widened blue optics staring at the smoldering and sparking remnants of the Decepticon army on this particular planet.

His three guards, young as they were, cheered and called down to the other Autobots the news that this particular army had been wiped out.

One of them yelled at the top of their vocalizer, “THEY WENT FRAGGIN’ BOOM! IT WAS AWESOME!”

It was so absolutely ridiculous, the way it was said, that Ultra couldn’t help but smile and laugh.

His exhaustion was so thorough that he didn’t hear the jet engine rumbling until it was nearly on top of him and had already shot Nitrate, Solblast, and Avalanche away. He looked up in horror and looked for the three cadets, but the jet slammed into him and sent him flying down the side of the rocky mound. Ultra came to rest halfway down the hill, chassis springing and helm spinning as he struggled to get to his pedes.

The jet landed directly on top of him and transformed, revealing-

No.

It was _him_.

Processor reeling, Ultra narrowed his optics and snarled, “Megatron!”

The mech smirked at him, revulsion the most prominent emotion in his vermillion optics. “I’ve missed you, Ultra Magnus.”

A renewed strength found its way into Ultra’s frame as he threw Megatron off him, sending the grey-plated Decepticon flying to his left side as he scrambled to his pedes and set off searching for the Magnus Hammer with his spark hammering wildly. He hoped, he hoped to Primus that it hadn’t been taken when he had put it down and been knocked away.

There. He found it. It had been tossed down the hillside and gotten lodged between two large boulders. Ultra grabbed at the handle and strained, grunting as he struggled to dislodge the Hammer. The sound of rapid pedefalls grew louder and louder, closer and closer, and he was almost about to free the Magnus Hammer when he felt a servo grab him by the neck and throw him around, pressing him against one of the enormous rocks.

Ultra struggled against the servo gripping him, glaring at Megatron as he held him to the side of the hill. He huffed and tried to fight his way out from his captor’s grasp, but the servo wrapped around his neck only tightened, crumpling the metal and making it significantly harder to make noise and use his throat tubes. Ultra choked and kicked his legs at Megatron, trying to buy time for the Autobots to come and retrieve him and get the Decepticon warlord off of him, but time began to blur.

He heard Megatron laugh, his tone mocking and taunting as he said, “Say hello to Megazarak when you see him, will you?”

At the sound of Megazarak’s designation, Ultra used the last of his fading strength to shove his leg into Megatron’s middle. He was aware of the Decepticon choking and coughing, but then he fell into a dark void, where sound drowned out and he became nothing.

The last thing he was consciously aware of was an impossible sight – Megazarak with Optimus in his arms, waiting for him.

He wanted to scream…

Then he woke.

His neck ached horribly, and he tried to raise a servo to touch at the crumpled and dented metal that he knew was there, but he found that his arm was attached to wires that led to a beeping machine of sorts. It was then that he recognized the darkened room, realizing that he was in the medical bay back at Fortress Maximus.

Ultra looked around, slowly moving his helm as to not aggravate the injury to his neck further. To the left side of the berth, he saw the Magnus Hammer resting on a set of chairs, and he relaxed a little bit at the knowledge that it hadn’t been taken by the enemy.

The door opened and Ultra looked up to see Red Alert stride in, datapad in one servo as the other one tapped at the screen, making it come online. “Glad to see you’re awake.”

Sighing softly, as he found he could hardly speak, he whispered, “I’m glad to see you alive.” He looked again at the ceiling. “What happened?”

“It took about ten Autobots to scare Megatron away, but he finally fled before he could finish you off.” Red Alert sighed. “We thought you had gone offline, but thank Primus there was a pulse keeping you online, so you were brought here for immediate treatment. Your vocalizer was cracked, badly. It’s been repaired, but I’m ordering you to refrain from excessive speaking for at least a decacycle, pending on how your vocalizer looks upon its next examination.”

“Is this tone fine to use?” Ultra asked in his whispered voice.

The medic thought on it a moment, then nodded. “Sure. It’ll be fine for a while, as long as you don’t wear yourself out using it. And you have two visitors. Should I let them in?”

“As long as one of them is my son, please do so.”

Red Alert smiled and then walked back over to the door, letting it slide open. A red blur darted in before the door could finish sliding open, scrambling up onto the berth and throwing arms around Ultra’s neck.

“Carrier! Are you okay, carrier?”

Ultra made a wheezing noise and had to mentally calm himself, reiterating that this was his son and not Megatron’s servo that was clutching to his neck, that he was safe. He raised his other arm that was not connected by wires to any machines and stroked Optimus’s backplates, nodding slowly. “I’m fine, Optimus,” he whispered in a low voice, smiling. “I’m fine.”

Another form came close to the berth, and Ultra looked up and smiled at Alpha Trion. The Senior High Councilor looked incredibly relieved at the sight in front of him, though he seemed to notice the pained expression on the Magnus’s faceplates, as he leaned down and gently pulled Optimus away. “Don’t throw yourself at him. Here, sit by him, here Optimus,” Alpha Trion spoke quietly to the red and blue bitlet as he maneuvered the youngling to sit on a patch of empty berth by Ultra’s chassis. When Optimus seated himself, Trion smiled wanly at the Magnus and rubbed his servo lightly over Ultra’s upper arm before he pulled back.

Optimus’s bright blue optics stared at him pleadingly. He reached out with both servos and placed them on his carrier’s chest. “Carrier, you got hurt. Please don’t go again. I don’t want you to get hurt again, please.”

Ultra met his son’s gaze and smiled softly, turning the palm of his right servo upward to face the ceiling. Optimus caught sight of the movement and put one of his little hands in his carrier’s palm, watching their joined servos as Ultra curled his to envelop his son’s. He pulsed his electromagnetic field outward, soothing the bitlet as best as he was able to. The youngling relaxed against him and laid down, curling up on his carrier’s chassis.

After making sure that Optimus was comfortable where he was, Ultra shifted his optics from the form of his son to look at Alpha Trion and Red Alert, who were standing next to each other at the side of the berth. “The three cadets that I had asked to accompany me, Nitrate, Solblast, and Avalanche… Megatron shot at them. Are they…?” he trailed off and looked at Red Alert, not wanting to say the words.

The medic’s optics turned downward, the apologetic look on her faceplates speaking heavy volumes. “Nitrate is in an induced stasis lock, but we’re not sure if she’ll make it. She’s lost a lot of energon, and most of her neural net has stalled. Solblast and Avalanche,” she paused and looked at the youngling resting on her commanding officer’s chest, “had no chance. Their families have come to retrieve their frames.”

Ultra closed his optics, in-vented deeply, then reopened his optics when he ex-vented. “Full Elite Guard honors. For both of them.”

The medic and the Senior High Councilor both nodded as he added, “Should Nitrate not survive, extend them to her as well. Should she survive, honorable discharge.”

“Understood, sir,” Red Alert murmured quietly as she turned her attention to reading the machines hooked up to his frame. “I’ll just be taking these readings, and then I'll leave the three of you be.”

Ultra nodded and sighed, returning his attention to the youngling curled up on his chassis. Optimus’s blue optics were dimmed as he looked sleepily at his carrier, reaching out with one arm to touch his carrier’s faceplates. Feeling a tug along their creator/creation bond, Ultra reached out and was met with a sense of fright.

“I’m fine little one. I won’t be going anywhere for a long while, it seems,” Ultra smiled at that last sentence, hoping it would cheer his son up. “It seems your wish came true, after all.”

The youngling’s optics brightened, and he lifted his helm slightly off of his carrier’s chassis. “But I didn’t want you to get hurt, carrier.”

The smile slackened off Ultra’s faceplates. He sighed softly and used his free servo to stroke his son’s blue, pert audio fins. “I know. I was hoping I wouldn’t be hurt as well, but as the universe would have it, I was. However, this means I’ll be with you for the time being. Are you excited about that?”

Optimus moved his optics from his carrier’s faceplates and stared at what Ultra knew was the deepest impression of the Decepticon’s servo on his neck. He saw the scared expression cross his son’s face, before Optimus nodded.

Ultra looked up at Alpha Trion, who was still standing at the side of the berth even after Red Alert had vacated the room. He smiled briefly at the other mech and in-vented as he asked, “How was he? Did he behave?”

Alpha Trion gave him a deadpan look. “That is akin to asking if his optics are blue.”

“I’m aware. But I do love hearing from other bots about how well behaved he is.”

The deadpan look changed to a soft one, and the Senior High Councilor laughed. “Of course you do. It’s further confirmation that you’ve been doing a well-enough job thus far.”

“Indeed. I believe I deserve to have my processor inflated every so often, when the subject turns to my parenting abilities.”

“Not so much, however. I will have you know that he used to drool on me, and he used to pretend to be recharging,” Alpha Trion said with a glimmer of mischief in his optics. “He’s not as perfectly behaved as you want to believe.”

“Oh, slag you,” Ultra whispered with a smile on his faceplates. “He’s hardly misbehaved with me.”

“Because he adores you, and he knows you are the ultimate authority. I’m the mech he can misbehave with at times,” Alpha Trion said, a moment before Optimus got up from his lying position. Both mechs turned their attention to the little mechling as he tried to clamber off the berth. Alpha Trion grabbed Optimus before he could clumsily fall down and set him down on the floor.

Under the gazes of his two creators, Optimus toddled over to the Magnus Hammer and placed his servos on it. Ultra knew the determined look in his son’s optics, and looked at Alpha Trion. The Senior High Councilor didn’t need telling twice, as he stepped over to the chairs that supported the Magnus’s symbol of office and gently unwound Optimus’s digits from the handle. “Come on. You can’t hold that. It’s very heavy, and that’s for your carrier.”

Optimus looked up at Alpha Trion. He stuck his lower lipplate out in a pout. “I hate the mech that hurt carrier.”

“I hate him as well,” the elder mech said, hoisting Optimus into his arms. “Come on, let’s go with your carrier. He’s going to want you nearby.”

Optimus nodded, and when he was passed back to Ultra, he curled up onto his chassis. He placed one of his audio fins to the center of his carrier’s chest, listening to the spark pulsing beneath the layers of armor and protoform. The spark pulses seemed to lull him into a fitful recharge.

Ultra stroked the youngling’s helm, smiling briefly when he heard his son’s small voice say, “I’m gonna get him carrier. I hate him and I’m…” Optimus yawned then continued tiredly, “I’m gonna get him for you.”

Alpha Trion pulled a seat up to the berthside, sinking down with an exhausted, yet relieved sigh. He looked at Optimus’s dimmed optics that were fighting off sleep before shifting his gaze to Ultra Magnus. “He knew something was wrong.”

That got Ultra’s attention. The Magnus slowly turned his helm to look at the Senior High Councilor as Alpha Trion continued, “Just before I got a message from Red Alert that you were in critical condition and being rushed back to Fortress Maximus, he went still and ran to the window of my office. He was worried and began pacing. I… I tried to ask him what was wrong, but he said nothing other than that he knew something was wrong with you.”

Ultra looked at the bitlet curled over his spark, thankful that he’d had the presence of processor to shield Optimus from the assault. The youngling didn’t need that.

“You have to stay here, Ultra,” Alpha Trion murmured. “For the sake of the Autobots, and for the sake of your son. Nothing happened to you when you used to take off on these missions, go in and fight, but this has occurred. And I believe it is best to let Optimus have his carrier, until he is ready to fend for himself. He needs you.”

“If something were to happen to me-”

“I know, Ultra. We’ve talked about it.” Alpha Trion sighed and placed his helm in his servos for a brief moment before looking up again. “I’m an old mech. Far older than you and most everyone stationed here. And to add to it… I love him deeply, but you know the issue.”

It remained unspoken, as they didn’t know if Optimus was pretending to recharge at this point or was legitimately in a sleep cycle, but Ultra knew well what the issue was. He nodded.

“If it can at all be helped, you need to be around. He needs you.”

Ultra stared at Alpha Trion a moment longer, then shifted his gaze back to his son. The bitlet shifted and stirred, yawning widely.

He thought of how he could be considered a leader, if he were to refrain from leading the charge into war. When conflict happened, he was sending mechs and femmes to the Well of AllSparks. What difference was he? He had a son waiting for him. Those that fought and gave their sparks had family as well. Did they not deserve to go back to their family?

He thought of the cadets that had had their lives ripped away, and their families that would lay them to rest so young. It would be hypocritical if he were to stay safe while sending the young generations out to fight his fight.

Optimus opened his optics and stared at his carrier sleepily, slowly reaching a servo out and touching the pale faceplates that always brought him comfort, that personified home.

Ultra quirked one corner of his lipplates upward and kissed the bitlet’s servo.

“The Autobots can function with the losses of cadets, Minors, a few Majors, even a Prime or two lost,” he heard Alpha Trion say in a quiet voice, filled with sorrow. “But the Autobots won’t be able to function without the head of their cause.”

“A Prime could replace me.”

“No. It would… it would be a struggle, Ultra. One that we don’t want to go through unless there is no other option. If anything please think of him,” Alpha Trion gestured to the red and blue mechling. “He needs you.”

Ultra caught Optimus gazing at the Magnus Hammer again, watching as the sleepy and dim blue optics brightened with vigor. His processor recalled what the bitlet had said earlier, about getting Megatron for him. Ultra sighed, the realization that Optimus was coming to know war so intimately hitting him. He didn’t want Optimus to have to “get” anyone for him.

Stroking Optimus’s audio fins, he nodded. “Fine. Then I will stay, as long as he needs me.”

The audio fins twitched at his words, and Optimus turned his helm so he could look his carrier in the optics. He snuggled into his carrier’s chassis once more, sighing contentedly as the large mech’s free arm wrapped around him in a warm and comforting embrace. Recharge came quickly, accompanied by the soothing pulses of the spark that was his lullaby.


	24. His Name Was Megazarak

He roared as he swung the Magnus Hammer at the grey-plated, vermillion optic-d mech suspended in the air before him.

His carrier. He wouldn’t get the images of the broken and shattered frame of his carrier, used gratuitously by acting-Magnus Sentinel, out of his processor. He imagined the spark that had given him life, whose beats were the best lullaby for those worrisome nights, pulsing erratically within the spark chamber, fighting a desperate fight to stay online.

His carrier was supposed to be safe. But the mech before him had seen to it that Ultra Magnus had been crippled in the safest place on Cybertron.

Megatron had felled the one mech that was closest to him. The mech that had given him life and put him before anything.

Now, Prowl was gone too, the body of his dear friend cradled in Jazz’s arms with that small smile on his faceplates, knowing the importance of the sacrifice he’d made.

The impact of the Magnus Hammer sent Megatron flying toward the street, his backside scraping loudly against the concrete and gravel as he slid a few yards before coming to a stop. Optimus Prime landed harshly on his pedes, racing over to the felled frame. He gave Megatron a hateful glare for one moment, then grasped the handle of the Hammer in both servos and swung it over his helm.

This was it. This was the moment that many millions of Autobots had hoped would come, and many of those millions had hoped they would be in his pedes. This was the moment he would realize his vengeance, avenging those that had died before him at the servos of Megatron and his cronies.

This was the moment he would avenge what had happened to his carrier.

He stopped. He stared at Megatron again, the Magnus Hammer hovering threateningly close to Megatron’s body.

Megatron stared at him listlessly, with optics not full of hate, but optics full of exhaustion. He seemed to sigh in acceptance, optics meeting the Hammer that was microns from ending him. “What are you waiting for, Autobot?” he drawled tiredly.  _“Finish me.”_

Ordering. Megatron was  _ordering_  him. As if he were one of his Decepticon soldiers.

No. He would not be ordered. And even if he were open to it, a quick death before he could answer to his crimes was too good for him.

Optimus narrowed his optics and looked down at the fusion cannon that was fastened to Megatron’s right arm. The sky darkened as empyrean lightning snaked and coiled along the Magnus’ symbol of office, filling the Hammer and Optimus with renewed energy. He made a split-nanoklik decision, and brought the Hammer down onto the weapon, shattering it like his carrier’s frame had been broken.

Megatron might not have been the one who’d done the damage to his carrier, or had been the one to kill Prowl directly, but he was just as responsible.

His team gathered around him and Megatron as the despotic Decepticon groaned in pain, clearly upset at the loss of his cannon, but unable to move.

“That would be the easy way out, Megatron” Optimus said, his chassis heaving. He set the Magnus Hammer aside and reached into his subspace for the largest pair of stasis cuffs he owned. “You don’t deserve it,” he hissed.

He slapped the cuffs on the Decepticon. He took a lot of pleasure in hearing the cuffs click and in hearing Megatron wince at the pressure.

.-.-.

The message from Red Alert and First Aid reached him as they descended upon Cybertron. It simply said that when he had a spare moment, to report to the medical bay at Fortress Maximus. Naturally, his spark became frenetic, his processor thinking the worst had to have happened to his carrier, but he soothed himself by saying that they would have definitely told him something if his carrier had…

He didn’t want to think about it.

Optimus rushed through the halls of Fortress Maximus, barely acknowledging the bots that passed him and shouted their thanks at him, and when he reached the medical wing he stopped at the sight of the two Elite Guard femmes guarding the entrance. They stared at each other, then at him, before they opened the doors.

First Aid, ever small and squeaky, was waiting for him on the other side.

“How’s my carrier?” Optimus asked. First Aid said nothing, only blinking at him and walking off while gesturing for the red and blue mech to follow him.

There was no apologetic look on the white-armored mech’s faceplates, so the chances of it being bad news was low… wasn’t it?

“He wants to see you.”

“He’s awake?”

Despite the mask covering the smaller mech’s faceplates, he could see the smile in the way his expression shifted. Blue optics looked at him from underneath an equally blue visor. “The Senior Councilor told your carrier that the war was over, and that you had captured Megatron, and it was like that was the activating switch he needed.”

Optimus smiled and sighed in relief as First Aid led him to one of the doors to a private room. He didn’t know what he would find on the other side of the door, but when it slid open he was met with the sight of his sire and his carrier, Alpha Trion seated next to the berth, his carrier sitting up in berth.

They had been talking, but at the sound of the doors sliding open the murmuring stopped. Both mechs turned their optics towards him, and Optimus watched as both of their expressions changed to ones of awe.

He raced to the berth, leaving the Magnus Hammer standing somewhere in the room, and threw his arms around his carrier’s neck and sobbed into the one-armed embrace that Ultra Magnus gave him, sinking to his knees next to the berth. His frame shuddered and shook violently as the weight of everything that had occurred in the past few stellar cycles, especially the last solar cycle, hit him.

He felt another frame embrace him, thin servos rubbing up and down the length of his arms. A voice that was second to his own carrier soothed him, saying, “You’re safe.”

Optimus became aware of something else quaking, and when he looked up into his carrier’s face he saw the beads of optical fluid falling down his carrier’s pale faceplates. His carrier smiled and in-vented to calm himself before he whispered, “I am so  _proud_  of you.”

The Prime smiled back and reached out, grabbing his carrier’s servo in his and kissing his carrier’s helm crest. Sighing heavily, he said, “He can’t bring you Pit anymore.”

“I know. You finished the war. You won for us,” his carrier said, a sad smile on his faceplates. A pensive look then crossed his faceplates and his optics dimmed as he looked at the Matrix that was slung around Optimus’s neck.

“Carrier?”

Half the smile came back as Ultra looked back up at his son’s faceplates. “I remember praying that the war would end before you could decide that you wanted to get involved.” He sighed heavily. “When you came to me and said that you had signed up to join the Elite Guard, my worst fear was realized. I thought about keeping you away, but,” he looked up at Alpha Trion, “he made me realize that I can’t control what it is that you want.”

“Yeah, I would’ve hated you if you told me to stay away from the Elite Guard,” Optimus said, laughing quietly. He held his carrier’s servo in one of his and stroked his carrier’s faceplates with the other servo.

Optimus saw how different his carrier looked. His carrier would always be the stoic, strong, and wise leader that he’d grown up seeing. Now, he noticed, part of the little spark that was ever-present in his carrier’s optics was gone. Something resembling relief had replaced it, and he was glad that he had brought peace of processor and relief to his carrier.

Another frame came into the fray – tall, thin, white and red. Another voice that he’d heard many times before spoke in an orderly tone, “Sorry to break up the reunion, but I’ve got an injection for the Commander.”

Nodding, Optimus pulled away from his carrier. He and Alpha Trion both stifled laughs at the grumbles that came from Ultra Magnus as he looked away and held his arm out for Red Alert. Optimus always found it amusing that his carrier hated shots more than he did; he recalled Red Alert’s story of when he received his first round of injections, and how it was his carrier that looked more panicked than the bitlet.

“Oh stop whining, you overgrown sparkling,” Red Alert said as she yanked the needle out. “If you want to get to use your other arm again,” she nodded to the Magnus’s left side, and Optimus looked and noted how his carrier had been wholly repaired, “you’re going to need to let this take effect.”

“I’d rather receive a shock than use a needle to regain use of my frame,” Ultra Magnus narrowed his optics at the medic, “and you know that Red.”

“Of course I do.” Red Alert smiled brightly. “But I like seeing you at my mercy.”

The medic then turned and looked at Optimus, who looked back at her. Her smile grew much wider, and she stepped forward and drew him in for an embrace. Optimus wrapped his arms around her, smiling. When she stepped back after a few moments, the Prime saw her still gazing at him, and he tilted his helm to the side and looked at her questioningly.

Red Alert shook her helm, closed her optics, and reopened them. “Seeing you grow into your own bot has been one of the best things I’ve witnessed. And look at you,” she looked at both Alpha Trion and Ultra Magnus before looking back at Optimus, “ending wars.” She smiled again. “You were about the size of my lower arm when I pulled you out of your carrier.”

“He was slightly bigger than that, Red Alert,” Alpha Trion corrected, holding his servos a fair distance apart. “That is longer than the length of your lower arm.”

“I’m sorry, were you the one holding him in his blankets and cleaning him off?”

Optimus took that as his cue to step away, which he did. He walked back over to the berth and knelt down by it, looking at his carrier. The look in his carrier’s optics was one of calm, something that he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“What do we do now?”

The calm went away, replaced by contemplation. Ultra Magnus sighed and moved his gaze from his son to look at the ceiling of the room. “I am fully conscious, so Sentinel is no longer acting Magnus. I will need to have many words with him to undo the damage he has done.”

Optimus smiled. “Cybertron’s still whole. At least there’s that.”

“Indeed.” Tired blue optics that had seen too much, but loved him much, looked at him. “Where was Megatron taken?”

Optimus racked his processor, trying to remember the name. “When we landed, I handed him off to the Elite Guard. They took him to Trypticon Prison.”

Suddenly they both heard the sound of Red Alert’s voice. “I wasn’t counting the length of his antennae when he was born, alright?!”

.-.-.

The sound of his pedes echoed in his audio receptors as he strode towards Trypticon Prison, flanked by six Elite Guard members – two to his right, two to his left, and two behind him. He was slow in his stride, weighed down by the injuries he was still recuperating from, and the Magnus Hammer in his right servo. The staff doubled as a cane, aiding him in walking and keeping him upright.

When he came to the duo of guards posted at the entrance to the prison, he stopped and looked at them. They looked at him, then at each other, and then input the security code that allowed the doors to slide open.

“Where is Megatron located?”

“The lowest level of the prison, sir,” one of the Trypticon guards replied. “He’s the only one there.”

The other guard added, “We moved the other prisoners to higher levels to keep him alone, per Optimus Prime’s orders.”

Ultra nodded and turned around to face the small contingent of Elites that had accompanied him. “You six,” he addressed them, “will wait here. I will have words with Megatron alone.”

The eight other mechs and femmes bristled at the thought of leaving their Magnus alone with the recently-captured leader of the Decepticons. However, none protested.

Trypticon Prison was large and rife with darkened hallways and cells, dimmed purple lights snaking across the walls and the ceilings, with the bars of the cells made of bright purple energy beams. Optics, red in nature and some in shades of orange and purple, stared dully at him as he made his way through the ominous corridors.

When he reached the lift, he tapped the button to the lowest level of the prison – the fifth subterranean floor.

Everything seemed to become much, much darker, the lower he descended. He could hear the mechanisms in his optics adjusting to give him better sight in the growing shadows. Ultra sighed and steeled his resolve, closing and reopening his optics to blackness.

The lift came to a shuddering halt, and the door slid open in front of him. He was met with a very large entrance that glowed purple around the edges. A thick glass pane separated him and the grey-plated mech sitting on the floor, looking down at a very fascinating scratch on the wall of his cell.

He looked… small. Small, dejected, uninterested.

Ultra stepped forward to the glass pane, standing there for what felt like cycles but was only kliks until the mech turned his red-optic’d gaze from the wall to him. The red optics that Ultra had come to hate with a vengeance were now filled with something akin to apathy.

He leaned the Magnus Hammer against the nearest solid wall and pulled the lever that was located there. Violet energy beams appeared, crisscrossing across the opening that the now-disappeared glass pane left behind.

Both mechs, leaders of their respective factions, stared at each other for a solid klik. Just as Ultra was about to break the silence and speak, Megatron went first.

“Come to shatter me with your Hammer?”

Ultra blinked his optics and shook his helm. “Why would I do that?”

Megatron gave a one-shouldered shrug. “It is what Shockwave told me he did to you. I know it is something you likely wonder about, but he acted on his own volition then. Never did I order him to harm you.”

“I’d be inclined to believe you if I weren’t so brutally ripped apart in the first place.”

“I gain nothing by lying to you at this point in time, Ultra Magnus,” Megatron said as he narrowed his optics at the mech. “Believe it or not, if any Decepticon were to harm you, it would have been me.”

“Just as you did those stellar cycles ago.”

Something came over Megatron’s processor, evidenced by the faraway gaze that his optics gained. Vermillion optics closed and reopened. “Yes. Just as I did on that battlefield.”

Ultra tightened his throat cables. His neck was smooth and long-healed, but he would always remember the feeling of those black servos crushing the life out of him. Resisting the urge to raise his servos to touch where the impressions had been left, Ultra merely changed the subject to what he had come for. “I came to ask what happened. With Megazarak.” The name hadn’t been dropped from his glossa in millennia, and he hated to admit it, but it felt strange saying that designation. “Why did you depose him, and why did you have him killed?”

Red optics glanced up at him again, this time filled with an emotion closely resembling regret. Megatron in-vented and exvented. “I didn’t have him killed.”

Ultra could feel his optics flare angrily. “You’re lying.”

“I am not. He was deposed, none of the Decepticons were aiding him because they were all disgusted at how soft he was becoming, especially towards you. What need would I have had to have him offlined?”

“He could have come back with an army, and deposed you.”

“That was why he was imprisoned. But I did not have him killed. Ultra Magnus,” Megatron got up from his sitting position on the floor and walked over to the energy beams that separated him and the Autobot Commander, “he cared for me in my time of greatest need. I cared for him deeply.”

“You didn’t care for him enough,” Ultra hissed, reaching for his Magnus Hammer, “to leave him be.”

“He raised me in the Decepticon cause! To see him softening around you, was an insult to what I had been indoctrinated into! Yes, I deposed him. I could never give the order to have him taken offline.”

Ultra didn’t grab the Hammer after all, only placing one of this servos on the wall next to the cell. “You haven’t answered my question, Megatron. What happened the solar cycle that Megazarak died?”

A heavy look passed over the Decepticon’s optics. He sighed heavily. “He attempted to break out of the prison that I threw him in. The guards overwhelmed him. When I put him there I had his self-defense weapons deactivated. Without them, the guards had the upper servo. From what I was later told,” Megatron’s optics dimmed, “one of them fired a laser blast into his spark. If it was an accident, or intentional, I don’t know. What I do know is that Megazarak offlined instantly.”

There it was. The confirmation that his beloved hadn’t functioned in this universe for a long, long time. He knew it was true, but it still angered him. Ultra curled the servo that was laid flat against the wall into a fist.

Megatron continued to speak. “When I was told what had happened, I was shocked. His spirit had been broken, especially when I gifted him a clip of you admitting that the sire of your son was one of your own.”

The Supreme Commander of the Autobots faced daily, constant situations that required that he hide his true emotions. He tried his best to keep the myriad of emotions he was now feeling – shock, anger, hurt on behalf of Megazarak – out of his optics and out of his posture. Megatron, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice as he spoke, “Something gave him a renewed vigor to fight. And to this moment I wonder what it was.” The Decepticon chuckled darkly. “Being very young, I panicked, and ordered Thrull destroyed. I look back and now realize that was foolish of me.”

“What did you do with Megazarak?” Ultra asked, staring into those red optics that looked up at him. “When I sent Autobots to inspect Thrull prior to its destruction, no trace of his frame was found.”

A dark expression came over Megatron’s face. “I had the guards responsible for his death executed. Their frames, along with Megazarak’s, were sent to one of the minor volcanic moons in the Decepticon Empire.”

So long ago he had imagined Megazarak’s frame being melted down. Ultra closed his optics and reopened them, ex-venting a very hot blast of air from his intakes.

“Why do you care, Autobot?” Megatron’s optics narrowed at him. “You shattered his spark when you decided you were going to procreate with the other mech.”

In that instance, he was back to that young Magnus, sobbing and mourning the loss of his beloved, with the sparkling they’d created kicking and squirming in his belly.

It occurred to him that he could tell Megatron the truth. That it was karmic justice that ensured that Megazarak’s son had been the one to bring him to justice. Alpha Trion had willingly given up his reputation to help him in keeping the Autobots together, to help Optimus feel like he had a whole family. That Megazarak had indeed sired his son.

And then he realized that he could never trust the Decepticon to keep it quiet. For all he knew, any surviving Decepticons could look to his son to be their leader.

No. That was not happening.

“I care because I loved him.” Ultra let his words hang in the air for a moment before he continued, “Despite what I did, which I acknowledge was a mistake of grand proportions, I loved him.”

Megatron could only stare at him as Ultra replaced the violet energy beams with the thick, shatterproof glass pane, grabbed the Magnus Hammer, and walked back onto the lift.

.-.-.

The stars seemed to shine brighter that night, despite the lights of Iacon polluting the view.

Ultra Magnus gave them a pass. Cybertron was celebrating the end of the war that had cost everyone someone and so much. He leaned against the railing of the balcony and raised his helm to the sky, looking for the constellations.

Eons ago, one of Megazarak’s optics had gone missing. It looked like there was a new star taking its place. It looked like he was winking down at him.

He felt another presence nearby. Ultra chuckled and thought back to a toddling youngling grabbing at the railing and wanting to be held up, to see the stars that much better. “We used to come out and watch these stars when you were younger. Do you remember that, Optimus?”

His red and blue-armored son walked to the railing and leaned against it as well, looking out at the lights coming from the center of Iacon. “I’d forget where the constellation of the Magnus Hammer was.” Optimus smiled. “You were always so patient, pointing it out every night.”

Both carrier and creation stayed quiet for a few kliks, one looking at the stars and the other looking at the lights in the distance.

“Sire went to recharge already,” Optimus said, breaking the silence. “Took him to his quarters, then came out here for you.”

“If you don’t mind I’d like to stay out here for a little while longer, Optimus.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll stay out here if you don’t mind.”

Ultra turned to his creation and shook his helm. “Of course not.” Then, a few moments later, he said, “Alpha Trion informed me that one of your team gave his life.”

He saw the bitter look cross his son’s face. Optimus put his servos to his hips and ex-vented hot air. “Prowl. From what Jazz told me, they couldn’t pull anymore shards of the AllSpark so Prowl gave his spark up to form the shield.” He sighed again, the anger subsided a fraction. “Megatron might not have done the deed himself, but he’s responsible for taking away a good friend, and for nearly leaving me without a carrier. I got him for you, for Prowl, and for everyone that’s lost someone because of him.”

Ultra smiled and wrapped his arms around his son, who curled into his embrace as if he were a sparkling once more, and laid his helm on his broad chassis. He felt their sparks, now close together, begin to pulse in sync as they always did when creator and creation were near one another.

“I have a question that I’ve always wanted to ask you.”

“Which is?”

“I’m… not sure how to say it, but… I have a bond with you. You’re my carrier. From what I know, I should also have a bond with Alpha Trion. And I don’t.” A slightly panicked look crossed over Optimus’s faceplates as he tried to correct himself. “I-I don’t mean that I don’t love him. I do, because the both of you cared for me and raised me. I see him like a sire. So why doesn’t he feel like one?”

Ultra looked at his son, seeing how many questions were going through the young mech’s processor. He then looked at the lights of Iacon and straightened his posture.

It was time. And he could trust his son to keep secrets. It was time that he knew.

“Come.”

He made his way down the corridors, passing by a guard or two here and there, with his son at his side. When they reached the door of his office, he input the code to open it and let them in.

“Make sure it secures behind you,” he told Optimus in a low voice as he crossed over to his desk. He opened one of the drawers and took out a datapad with a long crack running across the screen. It felt so heavy in his servos, even after all these stellar cycles. The weight of the universe was contained within.

Ultra looked down at the crack on the screen, then looked back up at his son, who was standing on the other side of the desk, staring at him with his wide, hopeful optics.

“When I learned that I was sparked with you, I was afraid of the repercussions that would come. I was young, one of the youngest to hold the office of Magnus, and I was wholly unprepared for the idea of raising a sparkling.” He sighed. “Most of all, I was afraid because of the situation that the Autobots and the Decepticons were in. We were under a ceasefire treaty, and news of my condition could throw everything into a disarray.”

“How would it have done that?” Optimus asked, tilting his helm to the side questioningly.

Ultra closed his optics and reopened them, gazing again at the crack on the datapad’s screen. “Alpha Trion is your sire in name on your certificate of birth, and in his actions. However, he is not your sire genetically. Your sire… his name was Megazarak.”

He onlined the datapad and typed in the password. For the first time in many stellar cycles, he looked at the face of the old Decepticon leader, red optics looking sadly at the camera. After a few moments of looking, he handed the datapad over to his son. Optimus stared at the datapad with wide optics filled with hesitation, then took it into his servo.

The video began to play, and Ultra held back tears at the sound of Megazarak’s voice.

_“-a Pit of a time not hearing from you. I know it was deserved, but I feel so guilty knowing that our final words were what they were._

_I don’t know if that final message I sent you, about you contacting me again, went through. I waited decacycles to hear back from you, and I would have waited more. But… well I’m certain you can deduce what’s happened. Betrayal in the ranks. I shouldn’t be surprised._

_If you’re hearing this on this datapad, Ultra, and I am not standing next to you,”_ Ultra looked at his son and saw the shocked expression on his faceplates,  _“that means that I no longer function. That means my escape attempt was my last and didn’t succeed. I’ve come to peace with the fact that by this time in the next solar cycle I might not be alive. Did I deserve this? I don’t know. Perhaps it’s my penance for neglecting those that I shouldn’t have. Or perhaps it’s just how I was always supposed to meet my end._

_There is one thing I don’t think I’ll be able to come to terms with, and that is the fact that I won’t be able to see you or hear you before I go, if I do._

_I’ve heard some rumors. And I was shown a video feed of you giving a speech to your Elite Guard. I know that you’re carrying._

_When I was first told about it, I felt betrayed. But then I noticed that small sequence of in-vent, pause, and then ex-vent. It took me a solar cycle, but when I noticed it, I laughed and cursed Primus. The sparkling is mine, isn’t it? I know it is. And if not, you’ll eventually find me in the afterlife eating my own leg struts._

_The universe is cruel. The one thing I wanted the most was to have a family with you, including sparklings, but that was the one thing you didn’t want in your life cycle._

_I wonder. What made you want to keep it? I’m not there with you. You could have terminated your carrying cycle, and I would never have been the wiser. You had all the power in your servos to do so. And you still kept our sparkling._

_Oh, who am I joking. I won’t get an answer._

_Primus, it causes me so much pain that I won’t get to be there for you both. Let our sparkling know that sire loves them, will you? I hope they come out looking like you, for your safety’s sake. I’m sorry I won’t be there. You shouldn’t have to do this alone. I’m so, so sorry, Ultra. I’d give anything to be able to hear your voice and see your faceplates one last time._

_I’d also give anything to be able to see our sparkling at least once, and tell them to take it easy on you. I’d sing praises of you to them, tell them that they have the greatest carrier that one could ask for._

_And my last words to you are: Please don’t grieve me too long. Our affair may have only been seven stellar cycles out of the thousands that I’ve lived, but they were the best seven stellar cycles of my life. You still have your entire life cycle ahead of you. I don’t want you to spend all of it grieving me.”_

Ultra Magnus closed his optics and said the words he had taken to spark when he’d first heard them so very long ago, his and Megazarak’s voices mixing in unison as they said,  _“I love you. And I’ll always be with you.”_

The video faded and the datapad screen cut to black.

Both mechs stood in silence for a long while. Ultra looked at his son through teared optics, watching the myriad of emotions pass through the young mech’s faceplates. Shock, upset, anger, and then sadness.

Optimus handed the datapad back to his carrier. “You and Megazarak? Megatron’s predecessor?”

“Yes. He and I loved each other deeply.” Ultra in-vented. “We were on the verge of ending the war when I discovered I was sparked. Much later, after I was forbidden to contact him for fear that he and I would be crucified by our respective factions, he was overthrown by Megatron and killed.” Ultra exvented and put the datapad back in the drawer he had stored it in. “I received this datapad three solar cycles before I went into emergence. It was brought on by the stress of this. Megazarak’s offlining.”

A flash of anger came over Optimus.

“That was what I went and spoke to him about. I have lived the entirety of your life cycle wondering what happened. I will never know, but the answers I got were sufficient enough that I feel that part of my spark is now at peace.”

“He did it on purpose, didn’t he?”

Ultra shook his helm. “He didn’t. I was shocked. Though he overthrew his predecessor, he still cared for him, as Megazarak had taken him in and cared for him as his own son.” He thought back to the conversation with the Decepticon, optics dimming. “I spent that time believing that he killed your sire. Come to find out, it was an accident.”

He stayed staring down at the surface of his desk, memories of the seven stellar cycles he spent with Megazarak coming to the forefront of his processor. He’d spent millennia focusing on his duties to the Autobots and raising his son into the mech before him, so he’d had little time to come to terms with Megazarak’s passing. Now, with a second viewing of the goodbye video and the war over and done with…

The tears fell and Ultra sat in his desk seat, putting his helm in his servos as his frame shook with sobs. His spark broke and shattered, the finality of death hitting him.

Gentle arms wrapped partway around him and he turned and cried into his son’s chassis, just as Optimus had done when he was a bitlet and the scariest things he faced were the monsters in his nightmares. Just as Optimus sought the familiarity of his spark, he sought the comfort of his son’s gentle pulses.

“I’m sorry,” Ultra whispered when his sobs subsided. He withdrew from his son’s embrace. “I thought I could handle hearing him speak again, but I was mistaken.” He looked up at Optimus, who gave him a wan smile.

“Who else knows, carrier?”

Ultra pressed the palms of his servos against his optic covers and made a soft springing noise from deep in his chassis. “Alpha Trion, of course. Botanica, Perceptor, and Highbrow, if you remember him. Red Alert. Kup Major. Those are all.” He cleared his vocalizer and removed his servos from his faceplates, looking at Optimus, who was now kneeling next to his seat. “The identity of your true sire has been a very heavily guarded secret since the moment Red Alert noticed my readings were off.”

“So you didn’t tell Megatron?”

“No. Please, Optimus, I beg of you to not tell anyone this. No one on your team, even,” he pleaded, grabbing one of the young mech’s servos. “They can’t know. Who knows what would happen if the truth were released, even though Megatron is now defeated and you are considered the hero of Cybertron.”

“Carrier,” Optimus gave Ultra Magnus a deadpan look, “it’s not their business. And,” he got up, grabbed one of the seats in front of the desk and dragged it over to the other side, sitting next to his carrier, “I still consider Alpha Trion as my sire.”

Ultra looked at his son, then embraced him and kissed the top of his helm. It had been a long, long while since he’d done so.

Optimus smiled into the hug and sighed, wrapping his arms around his carrier. “What was Megazarak like?”

Smiling against his son’s helm, Ultra thought back to the mech that had stolen his spark so long ago. Memories of exploding stars, dances, and late-night messages to the other filled his processor, replacing the painful ones.

“You look like him, before he changed his frame to become the mech whose pictures you see in histories of the Decepticon faction. He slept with one servo curled into a fist and placed above his helm, just like you do. His laugh and your laugh are far more similar than mine. You know how to get your way with your large blue optics, just as he did with his red ones.” He in-vented. “He enjoyed playing pranks on his subordinates, or so he told me. Despite his beginnings as a cold-forged miner, he was well-read and so intelligent. He and I loved to snark at each other one moment, then engage in deep philosophical discussions about life the next.”

He felt his son sigh against his arms, and continued, “And though it was seven stellar cycles that we were together, it felt like seven lifetimes.” Ultra rubbed his son’s back. “And I know he would have adored and loved you so much. That was where he and I differed originally; he wanted sparklings, I didn’t.”

Optimus pulled back, meeting his carrier’s optics with a suspicious look. “So why did you keep me?”

How he had been dreading that question, but Ultra found that he didn’t mind it. He smiled and stroked his son’s cheekplate. “I loved you the moment I felt your presence. Terminating you was never an option, and though I very briefly considered adopting you out, it felt wrong. I decided to keep you.” The smile slackened and he looked at the Autobot insignia stamped on the young bot’s shoulder. “I only wish he’d gotten to meet you. Even once.”

Optimus gave a sad grin and held his servo up, taking his carrier’s servo that had been stroking his cheekplate into his. “He did. Through the datapad you showed me. I saw that he loved you and he loved me without ever meeting me. And… that’s all I need to know, carrier.”

Ultra nodded. “So, now you know why Alpha Trion doesn’t have that bond with you. Despite you being from another mech, he graciously accepted the blame when Megazarak couldn’t, and he has… he has saved me. As much as you have, Optimus.” He sighed. “Do you forgive me for keeping this secret from you?”

The young mech smiled and kissed his carrier’s helm crest.

“I forgive you. C’mon,” he got to his pedes, gesturing to the shining stars out of the office window, “I want you to show me the Magnus Hammer in the stars again.”

Ultra smiled at his son, and after making sure that the datapad was safely secured again, followed him out of the office.

.-.-.

Later that night cycle, he dreamt of a golden field of rolling hills under a bright blue sky.

Among the hills, Megazarak and a young Optimus played hide-and-go-seek in the tall grasses and climbed tall trees as Ultra sat and watched their antics from afar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After seven months of working on this, it's relieving but also saddening to bring this to a close. I greatly appreciate all the attention this rarepair got in their story and all the wonderful comments that I've received. Thank you all for this wonderful journey <3
> 
> ~Andromeda Prime~


End file.
